


The Wolf and The Abyssinian

by Androgene



Category: Rurouni Kenshin, Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Chaptered, Complete, M/M, Sexual Coercion, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-15
Updated: 2001-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-25 14:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 29,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9824474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Androgene/pseuds/Androgene
Summary: A Rurouni Kenshin and WeiB Kreuz crossover, with both worlds fused into an alternate one.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t help it. The idea of a SaitoxRan pairing just popped in my head while I was writing my other fanfic and it won’t leave! It’s one of those ideas that hit you over the head and screamed to be written. Don’t need a muse for that kind of brick. 
> 
> For the sake of this story, let’s just say that the Rurouni Kenshin’s characters are living in the present days, and they are all mixed up in the worlds of Kritiker – meaning Kritiker itself, Crashers and WeiB. 
> 
> In this AU, there is one additional order: the Mibu’s Wolves of Justice (extracted from the Rurouni Kenshin universe). In here, the Mibu’s Wolves act as the watchdog of the organization. If they find the organization is being corrupted from within, it is their task to eliminate the problem and set the organization back on track. This would of course call for very disciplined people who are willing to embrace the principles of their joyless burden with every bit of their being. 
> 
> So enters Saito Hajime, who once worked for Kritiker as one of the Mibu’s Wolves of Justice. He also never got married in this fic (I honestly have no idea how any women could live with someone like that). 
> 
> Himura Kenshin aka the Hitokiri Battousai was once part of WeiB I, for obvious reasons, but he later became a wandering backpacker before returning to Japan. 
> 
> The Oniwa Banshuu works for the government and has never gone private, so to speak. Shinomori Aoshi is still the prodigious leader of this organization, while raising his adopted protégé Misao. 
> 
> All these RK characters would be involved in Kritiker longer than Aya and his friends were. 
> 
> Cho the Sword Hunter became a gunrunner in this fic. His role is minimal. 
> 
> Takeda Kanryou remains the rotten-to-the-core villain that he is. In this fic, he deals in drugs, weapons, any vice that would gain him more power. 
> 
> Chronically speaking, this fic takes place after the ‘Revenge’ arc of the Rurouni Kenshin manga (not the anime). And for WeiB, it would take place after the events in the Dramatic Precious Stages drama CDs. 
> 
> For the sake of not confusing anyone, I’ll refer to the worlds of Kritiker, Crashers and WeiB as just Kritiker whenever it’s needed. 
> 
> The word ‘hitokiri’ means ‘assassin’ in Japanese, which is exactly what WeiB is about. So when I say Hitokiri Battousai, it also refers to Himura’s link to being a WeiB. 
> 
> In this fic, Ran still continues using ‘Aya’ as his identity. His codename is Abyssinian, name of a feline pedigree. Yohji is Balinese; Ken is Siberian. Omi, having dropped out of the assassin game, drops the codename Bombay and assumes his uncle’s mantle of Persia *enough said*. 
> 
> Saito Hajime is the lone vigilante crime-fighter who goes by the name Fujito Goro. ‘Aku Soku Zan’ still remains as his coda and it means ‘Kill Evil Instantly’. 
> 
> In keeping with what I feel to be the accurate way, the family name will be placed before the personal name. 
> 
> The name of WeiB’s second flower shop is KaY – short for Ken, Aya and Yohji. I put a small ‘a’ because Aya isn’t his true name at all, and because forming a name with K, R, Y is impossible. 
> 
> I have just finished watching the OVA and I realized something. Aya is not wearing his sister’s earring anymore! It makes sense in a way because his sister is awake and well. But did he return it or keep the jewelry, well, that’s anybody’s guess.
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> All characters belong to their individual creators. Nobuhiro Watsuki created Rurouni Kenshin™ and Takehito Koyasu and Project WeiB created WeiB Kreuz™. I don’t own them and I don’t profit from using these characters.

Many decades ago, there was an extremely wealthy and powerful man by the name of Takatori Saijou. He was the head of the Takatori clan, a proud noble family that could trace its roots back to the beginning of the Tokugawa era. Saijou-sama was a brilliant and shrewd man who saw far into the future. He saw the cloak-and-dagger games the politicians played, the corruption tainting the future of his country and decided to protect his country’s future as best as he could. 

Thus, with his family influence and wealth, he created a clandestine organization. He named it Kritiker, for its purpose was to ‘criticize’ the wrongdoers who operated in the shadows. In Kritiker, he established his information network to collect evidence and expose the corruption among the sinners. Next, he formed the Crashers, those who set entrapments to catch the sinners red-handed in the act. The Crashers were ruthless and given a free rein in entrapping the criminals for the law to apprehend. But both Crashers and Kritiker were strictly forbidden to kill. 

In the beginning, he thought it would be enough. Surely with the kind of power Kritiker and Crashers wield, it would be easy to check the growing corruption and power of the underworld. But time passed and soon proved him wrong. Not only did the criminals slip through the fingers of justice easily, he discovered that there were those that the law was unable to touch at all. So finally, he created his executioners. 

WeiB – the White Hunters – his highly trained assassin unit. Only WeiB was allowed to hunt down the terrible criminals the law cannot touch. And only they were allowed to spill the black sinners’ blood, for they were justice’s executioners. Perhaps, among his three organizations, it was WeiB who bore the heaviest burden for they walked the fine line between justice and sin. 

Kritiker flourished and grew in power, helping to keep the country in order and stable. But Saijou-sama was not a foolish man. He knew power corrupts, and absolute power such as his corrupts absolutely. So he created a watchdog group, to watch over his organizations and ensure that they would not stray from the ideals that formed them. 

The Mibu’s Wolves answered to no one but to Saijou-sama alone. Their task was to watch over his organizations, readied at all times to cut them down if they were ever to stray from their ideals. They do not interfere, but merely watch and guard. 

Many decades passed, as Saijou-sama led his organizations in their dedication of keeping their nation safe from harm. But he grew old and turned the reins of leadership over to his sons, Reiji-sama the elder and Shuuichi-sama the younger. His hope was that the brothers would work together and lead his organizations and the country to a better future. But Reiji-sama proved susceptible to the corruption of power. As the years went by, he began to consolidate his power, plotting to wrest his brother’s share of leadership away. Shuuichi-sama knew of his brother’s ambition. Unwilling to see his father’s efforts twisted to his brother’s selfish greed, he took steps in countering Reiji-sama’s power plot. 

During this period of troubled time, the leader of the Mibu’s Wolves was a man named Saito Hajime. He was a lone wolf, a hunter and a ruthless killer who lived only by his strict coda of justice – Aku. Soku. Zan. His golden eyes saw the power struggle between the brothers and he quietly readied his Wolves in preparation for the day they would carry out their gruesome duty. 

A fearsome legend led WeiB during the same period. He was a small and slender man, with waist-long red hair and delicate features. He was often mistaken for a pretty girl until one saw the cold emptiness in his violet eyes. Because he killed with such swift ruthlessness, he was simply known as the Hitokiri Battousai – his real name had been all but buried under the stories he had garnered during his bloody career. The Hitokiri Battousai sensed the brewing conflict and he too discreetly prepped his team for the day they would choose side and defend it to the last. 

The conflict exploded suddenly, starting with an attack on the estate of Takatori Shuuichi. Anticipating the attack, Shuuichi-sama retaliated at once. And very quickly, the shadowy worlds of Kritiker, Crashers and WeiB descended into chaos. Friendships were torn apart as each chose their leader; countless lives were lost in the bloody struggle for domination. The ideals on which each organization was built on were forgotten; the people blinded by the chaos. 

During this war, the Hitokiri Battousai and WeiB stood by Shuuichi-sama. Bearing a freshly scarred cheek, he savagely cut a bloody swath through his enemies, earning their terror and hatred. 

The wag raged on. 

The Mibu’s Wolves of Justice gathered to swoop down and crash everything in its path. But as they descended upon the madness like avenging angels, a traitor betrayed them from within. Caught off guard, the Mibu’s Wolves were slaughtered, leaving Saito alone to confront and kill the traitor. 

In the months to come, Shuuichi-sama successfully wrest full control from his brother, taking all three organizations firmly in his hands. His victory spelt the end of a long bloody war, but it had not came without its price. 

Many had died in the war. 

A good number of those who lived to see the end defected to Reiji-sama’s side. Reiji-sama took them overseas and rebuilt them into the SS and SZ, cementing an alliance with the mysterious Estet. 

The Mibu’s Wolves were completely wiped out, leaving Saito as its lone survivor. It was said that the last Mibu’s Wolf had gone underground before reemerging with a new identity, still protecting his country by his rigid coda. How true this was, no one knew. 

The Hitokiri Battousai was also the sole survivor of WeiB. Reportedly to be sickened by the bloodshed and sorrows, he disappeared into the night, never to be seen again. Rumors had it that he traversed the globe in search of redemption but no one could confirm the rumors. 

Shuuichi-sama spent the later half of his life rebuilding the three organizations. The Mibu’s Wolves were laid to rest, as it was difficult to find talents who were willing to live with the same unforgiving coda Saito believed in. Kritiker was revived, and so was Crashers. WeiB was rebuilt twice – WeiB II failing with the supposed death of Shion. In its third incarnation, Shuuichi-sama placed a prodigy whom he could never acknowledge as his son and an icy redhead whose physical appearance reminded him much of his vanished dear friend. 

He knew his brother would return one day. And he was not disappointed. 

The reappearance of Takatori Reiji in Japan announced the beginning of a second dark period. This time, Reiji-sama slyly and subtly maneuvered his organizations SZ and SS into positions, readying for the day he would take over the country and crush his brother’s power once and for all. 

The consequences were well known in Kritiker’s history. 

In the brief but terrifying days of martial law, the entire country of Japan was held in a virtual stranglehold in the palm of Takatori Reiji. 

In freeing the country, Takatori Shuuichi known to his organizations as Persia and King sacrificed his life. 

In the vacuum left behind and after the defeat of Estet at the hands of WeiB, a second power struggle brought Kritiker to its collective knees. 

But this time, the present WeiB took no part in the power struggle. Pawns themselves, they barely survived an attack by a rogue assassin unit claiming their name. In Kritiker’s weakened state, the organizations were helpless in stopping the machinations of a rising would-be tyrant – Shishio Makoto. 

Alarmed at the ease and speed at which Shishio and his Juppon Gatana consolidated their power, Shinomori Aoshi – leader of the government’s secret spy group Oniwa Banshuu – hatched a desperate plan to stop the would-be tyrant. With much difficulty, he tracked down both Saito and the former Hitokiri Battousai and convinced them to join his cause. Together, they returned to Tokyo to put a stop to Shishio’s insane plans of domination. 

The end of the power struggle within Kritiker came swiftly as well. In the aftermath, the last Takatori, once a member of WeiB III assumed the mantle of Persia and took over the leadership of all three organizations. He was determined never to allow Kritiker descend into the madness for the third time. 

As the fighters rest and recuperate, normalcy descended once more onto the worlds of Kritiker.


	2. Opening

Click.

A small flame flared, then quickly extinguished. A cigarette butt glowed in the moonlit darkness and the quiet sound of exhalation whispered in the silence. Narrowed golden eyes remained fixed on the full moon outside the open window, ignoring the glowing screen of the computer behind him. 

That was how Cho found the Mibu’s Wolf. Sitting alone in his darkened office, silent and still, the thin curl of smoke drifting upward in the air the only sign of movement. The brooding man gave no indication that he noticed his presence as the former gunrunner stepped further into the office. 

“Oi.” Cho glanced at his watch. “It’s way past midnight already. You’re late for your duel with Himura.” 

Saito Hajime languidly took another puff of his cigarette. “Who says I’m going?” he inquired calmly. 

Cho gaped at the back of the man. He marched over to the desk, peered at the computer screen and pointed vigorously at it. “There! Didn’t Himura Kenshin send you that email?” 

“The one whom I want to duel with is the Hitokiri Battousai. Not the person who sent me that email.” Saito flicked the ash from his cigarette. “A wolf is always a wolf, a hitokiri is forever a hitokiri. That’s what I used to believe. But it seems that I was wrong.” 

Cho rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand you. Battousai and Himura Kenshin are one and the same person. What’s the difference in fighting him now?” 

“I don’t expect you to understand. Dueling with Himura now will not give me any satisfaction.” Saito rose from his chair, stumping out his cigarette in his overflowing ashtray. “That’s the fact of the matter.” 

And it left a hard lump of discontentment in Saito’s stomach. 

Though the Mibu’s Wolf and the Hitokiri Battousai used to work for Kritiker, they were rivals. Their philosophies were as different as day and night and they had clashed many times, trying to prove which of them was the stronger and more skilled fighter. That was before the brothers Takatori’s power struggle torn the organizations apart and they were left to survive the aftermath on their own. 

Now years later, the collapse of Estet and a second power struggle within Kritiker gave Shishio Makoto a way to consolidate his own power and conquer the country. Kritiker was helpless in stopping the would-be tyrant, being too engrossed in its own problems. It had taken the concerted efforts of the government’s Oniwa Banshuu, the last Mibu’s Wolf and the former Hitokiri Battousai to defeat Shishio and his Juppon Gatana. 

But what galls Saito the most was the fact he had not once seen the Battousai in action during their enforced alliance. 

Though both the Battousai and Kenshin were one and the same, the two personalities were so different that they were distinctive. It was not to say Himura was schizophrenic. It was simply two sides of the same coin. But now it seemed only one side was left – that of Himura Kenshin. In all the life-and-death struggles Kenshin had with Shishio, Saito had never once seen the Battousai emerge. It was Himura fighting all the time, with the Battousai’s fierceness tempered by Kenshin’s newfound love for life. 

The Hitokiri Battousai was well and truly dead. 

It left a bitter taste of disappointment in Saito’s mouth. Never would he be able to resolve his enmity with the Battousai. Never would they know who was the stronger of the two. 

A sudden gust of wind rushed in, scattering papers and cigarette ashes. 

Cho shivered. “Brr…” 

Saito lit a fresh cigarette. “Chilly wind.” 

“It should be,” Cho retorted. “It’s almost autumn.” 

Saito blew out a cloud of smoke as he gazed out at the rooftops of the high-rise buildings. “That idiot.” 

From that day onward, Himura Kenshin’s path never crossed with Saito’s again. Days later, the last Mibu’s Wolf vanished into the night, taking with him his strict coda of justice – Aku. Soku. Zan.

* * *

“Oh right! We’re back!” Hidaka Ken cheered as he tossed his belongings into a far corner and threw himself onto the sheet-covered couch. He immediately sat up, sneezing mightily, as the cloud of accumulated dust settled around him. “Damn.”

Tsukiyono, or Takatori Mamoru, as he was known now, couldn’t stifle his laugh at Ken’s antics. “Ken-kun, the place hasn’t been lived in for months. Now help me with the sheet. Aya-kun needs a place to rest.” 

Ken sneezed again as he got up, dusted off his clothes, and proceeded to help his young friend. 

They uncovered the couch just as Kudoh Yohji entered the apartment with their convalescing friend cradled carefully in his arms. Aya rested limply against the blond’s chest, eyes closed and face extremely pale. He was obviously exhausted from their long journey from Kyoto and still painfully unwell. His short-hemmed shirt rode up slightly and Ken could see the white bandages covering his torso. 

The sight of those bandages never failed to remind Ken of those nightmarish days in Kyoto where WeiB was a mobile assassin unit. He shuddered at the memories of his near-descent into permanent bloodlust, of WeiB caught up in the power struggle between splintering factions of Kritiker, of a false WeiB who had nearly destroyed them. They hadn’t known who was right or wrong, or even whom to trust. The only two they could trust – Manx and Birman – were dead, giving their lives in their attempts to stop the bloodshed. 

In the chaos and the fight for survival, WeiB had nearly lost one of their own. 

Fujimiya Ran, or Aya as he was better known, fought and won the battle against Shion, effectively ending the uncontrolled carnage by the false WeiB. His former mentor died in that duel, but Ran did not escape unscathed either. Despite being months later, Ken would never forget the sharp stab of terror when he saw Aya simply collapsing into unconsciousness after the duel. 

Aya stirred when Yohji carefully laid him onto the couch, trying not to jar the multiple healing wounds about his body. Tired dull eyes opened as his friend covered him with a wool blanket. 

“Comfortable?” Yohji asked. 

“Hn…” came the typical Aya response. “Where…?” 

“We’re back in Tokyo, Aya-kun.” Omi beamed happily at him from behind the backrest. He gestured broadly at the empty apartment. “You’ll love this place. Shop at the ground floor, common living quarters on the second and all the bedrooms on the third. Enough privacy for everyone, even you, without having to scatter.” 

“Too bad you won’t be joining us,” Yohji said with some regret. “Gonna miss you, kiddo.” 

Omi had taken his place beside his grandfather’s side, rebuilding all three organizations - Kritiker, Crashers and WeiB - under the identity of Persia. 

“Takatori Estate is not that far away from here. I’ll drop by for visits. Same goes for you guys.” Omi’s cheery expression darkened. “I feel like I’m abandoning you guys though.” 

“You’re not,” Aya replied, voice exhausted but certain. “Kritiker is not something that we can afford to leave unmanaged. Persia’s death has taught us that much. The only way to regain control of it is by a Takatori – that’s you.” 

Aya paused, catching his breath. “You can handle it despite your age, Omi. And if you ever need WeiB, you just have to call us.” 

Omi smiled brilliantly, touched by Aya’s words. His stoic friend seldom speaks, so his sentiments now were all the more important to him. “Arigato, Aya-kun.” 

“So what now?” Ken asked. “It will be at least three months before he’s even mobile.” 

“Rest and heal,” Omi replied. The youngest of them looked at his friends. “We all need the break after what happened. I think we could all use a dose of normal life for a while.” 

“So WeiB will be inactive for, what, three to six months?” Yohji questioned. 

“Of course. It will take Aya that long to get back in shape.” 

“Good.” Yohji stretched lazily. “I’m looking forward to the vacation.” 

“Not so fast,” Ken said. “We have to open our flower shop in a month’s time.” 

The playboy gave Ken a flat look. “That’s not funny.” 

“Never said I was joking,” Ken grinned. 

So WeiB returned to where it all began for them – Tokyo and to the darkness of corruption where they exist as the executioners for justice.


	3. Act One Scene One – One Year Later

Situated somewhere between the busy city center and the northern suburban district was a small stretch of neighborhood, consisting of semi-residential buildings and small shops that sell very specialized and often rare goods. A flower shop would have found it difficult to survive in an area catering to such eclectic tastes, but survived it did and it even flourished, much to the bemusement of other shopkeepers. Never mind the fact that the florists owned the building and were therefore rich enough to afford not working. Still… 

The success of the flower shop defied all commercial logic. 

After all, the flower shop was situated in what could easily be labeled as the wrong location and it was tucked away in a corner, facing away from the main street. If it were not for the signboard, nobody would even know it exist. 

The shop was called K.a.Y, and it sells…well, flowers (duh). Its reputation for being well versed in the rare arts of the traditional Ikebana and the Victorian language of flowers was spread by word-of-mouth and nothing to laugh about. Many wealthy people and those who appreciate the uncommon art forms flocked to this flower shop; they were the type willing to pay gold for very specific and unique arrangements. 

There was another – ahem, more lighthearted – aspect to the flower shop’s reputation. The shop’s popularity with the young crowd – especially among teenaged girls – bordered on fan idolization. On any given day, the flower shop was practically flooded with hordes of young teenaged schoolgirls all clambering to flirt with the florists. 

And that was a never-ending source of amusement for the neighborhood. 

Because, really, where else in Japan could you find a flower shop ran by three extremely and archetypically handsome young men? 

There was the boyish athletic brunette who was oblivious to his own handsomeness, extremely clumsy around the shop but a fleet-footed devil on the soccer field. He is the all-round nice guy, the boy-next-door whom any parents would approve of for their daughter’s date. 

Then there was the tall rakish blond who was definitely not parental-approval type. Laidback, oozing sex and charm with devastating ease, the playboy of the trio was a master of the casual fling and knew how attractive some women find that danger to be. 

Last was the redhead most have privately labeled as the exotic, icy beauty. No matter how tempting he was, everyone in the neighborhood learnt swiftly at the onset never to cross him. When provoked, the man’s scathing replies were known to cause great damage. Despite that, his brooding nature was serious attraction to young girls who didn’t know any better and got them tripping over themselves.

Usually, his response was –

“If you’re not buying anything, get out!”

On the whole, the flower shop was unusual, a fresh deviation from the norm. 

Yohji watched regretfully as the last of the schoolgirls reluctantly exited the shop. “Oi, Aya, you’ve scared the customers away.” He smiled and blew a kiss at a bold one who winked at him.

“They’re only customers if they are buying anything in the first place,” Aya countered irritably. “You’re simply encouraging their bad habits.”

The playboy eyed the irate redhead with lazy mischief. “Not all of them are here to see me, Aya-kun. If I remember correctly, you have quite a following yourself too – all fighting to be the first to melt that icy armor and find that heart beneath.”

Aya snorted indelicately. “They need a life.”

The bells above the door jingled again.

“I’m home!” sang out a cheerful voice.

“Track mud on the floor and you’re cleaning it,” Aya threatened without missing a beat.

With a yelp, Ken quickly withdrew his outstretched muddy foot from the threshold of the shop entrance. “Gomen,” he said sheepishly. “I forgot.”

“Hn.” Aya tossed him a pair of indoor slippers, placed in the shop for such occasions.

“Ne, Ken-kun, you are still as forgetful as ever.” 

Ken turned, breaking into a grin when he saw who stood behind him on the pavement. “Omi!” 

“Yo, bishounen.” Yohji greeted as he straightened from his slouched position. 

“Minna,” Omi greeted happily as he entered the shop, leaving Ken outside to change his footwear. 

Aya’s expression remained unsmiling but the lines of his face had softened. “It’s been some time, Omi. You have lost weight.” 

“Ah,” The genki and generally optimistic teenaged boy raked a hand through his blond hair. “Rebuilding an empire and studying at the same time isn’t easy, Aya-kun.” 

Ken clucked his tongue when he finally entered the shop in slippers. “Then it’s up to us, your family, to fatten you up.” 

“You can do that later, Ken-kun, when we are done.” 

Aya paused in mid-wipe and stared curiously at Omi. There was something in the teenaged boy’s voice that alerted the assassin in him. Then he knew. Omi only wore that look during missions. A thrill of anticipation ran through him. “Are we…?” 

“Hai.” Omi’s smile faded. The genki charm disappeared and for a moment, a Takatori with all the dignity of the late Shuuichi Takatori stood in their shop. 

“I am reactivating WeiB as of this moment.”

The mission room in the basement was the least-used room of the apartment building. 

Coming down the stairs, Omi could still smell the mustiness of the room. As Ken flipped on the light switch, Omi did a cursory check. The mission room was set up similarly to the old one at Koneko, with the couches, computer and a large television set. The only difference was the newness and unlived-in quality. 

Yohji and Ken flopped down onto the couch, while Aya leaned against the wall behind them, as was his wont. Omi took the place where Manx once stood – in front of them. It was odd to find himself in this position – the role of the go-between. 

“Why do you want to reactivate WeiB?” Aya asked straight to the point as always. 

“Because I need you,” Omi replied simply. “The number of able teams Kritiker currently has is at an all-time low. The internal conflict has decimated our ranks quite thoroughly. I need every full team that survived the upheaval to help rebuild Kritiker.” 

“WeiB isn’t a full team at the moment,” Ken pointed out. “We’re still shorting of one.” 

“I couldn’t find a replacement,” Omi smirked. “It’s tough to find someone as good as me.” 

Yohji let out a bark of laughter. “Score one for Omi and none for Kenken.” 

“What do you want us to do?” Aya spoke up. 

“The underground world knows that Kritiker has been weakened and will be for some time. They are taking this opportunity to strengthen their powers. I have my hands full cleaning up the mess inside Kritiker. I don’t have the extra manpower to spend fighting these Yakuza. I need you guys to help me out on that front.” 

Omi sat down, folding his hands across his lap. “Kritiker must be shown to these people to be alive and well. A warning to them that we will not sit down and allow them to rampage through society unchecked. Our presence must be felt and I can’t think of a better team than WeiB to do so.” 

The remaining WeiB looked at each other. 

Then Yohji finally shrugged and kicked back his feet. “We always know this day would come.” 

“So when do you want us to start?” Ken inquired. 

“How about right now?”


	4. Act One Scene Two – Two Days Later

The nightclub was one of the more happening spots in town. Occupying a former warehouse, it catered to people from all walks of life who needed one form of escape or another. While Ken kept watch outside under the pretext of waiting for his date, both Aya and Yohji went into the club separately. 

WeiB’s target, Takeda Kanryou, was the owner of this club. He was also the leading drug manufacturer in Tokyo, a dangerous man with connections even in the government. The destruction of his operations and his death would send the message Persia wanted to spread like a wave through the underground organizations. 

The preliminary stage of their mission was simple. Persia needed to know where Takeda’s drug lab was. WeiB was to find and deliver that information to him. Since Takeda often conducted his business in his nightclub, it was a logical place to start looking. 

That didn’t meant that Aya have to like it though. Nightclubs were Yohji’s kind of scene, not his. Aya liked his personal space – the more the better. The crowds pressing in around him and the dark smoky air made him longed to be as far away from here as possible, away from the countless hungry and lusty stares he could feel directed at him. Curse Yohji and his insistence on him to wear clubbing clothes. Aya felt like a whore in Yohji’s skin-tight leather gear. How was he going to reach the back office unnoticed? 

Aya stiffened when he felt someone slithered up to him, slipping an arm around his waist. Narrowed violet eyes glared at the intruder, ready to do bodily damage. 

“Relax, beautiful.” Yohji murmured next to his ear in order to be heard over the din. “Just going to get you out of sight, so work with me.” 

Reluctantly, Aya allowed himself to be pulled into the writhing mass on the dance floor. The crush of bodies pushed Aya flushed up against Yohji. He couldn’t help but blush at the close contact, hoping that Yohji wouldn’t notice his awkwardness. 

“Dance a little,” Yohji shouted over the deafening music. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you don’t.” 

Aya had never gone clubbing before in his life. He hadn’t had the faintest idea how to dance either. With only one person to guide him – and that was Yohji – Aya began mimicking his partner’s moves, undulating and swaying in time with the music. Yohji flashed him a grin of approval, to which he rolled his eyes at. 

Together the two assassins slowly and gradually moved across the dance floor, heading for the back of the club. Finally they extricated themselves from the body crush and Yohji pulled Aya into a small hidden corner underneath the staircase. 

“Wha -?” 

“This way, you won’t draw attention because they think you and I are having a hot session.” Aya could hear the grin in his voice. The blond playboy – damn him – was having entirely too much fun at his expense. Yohji shifted slightly. “See that door behind me?” 

Aya peered over his shoulder and saw the velvet-covered door in question. It was half-hidden behind the staircase. An ‘employee only’ sign was nailed to it. 

“One of the waitresses told me that there’s a stairs leading to Takeda’s office through that way.” 

“Let me guess, you got her number as well.” 

“Well, duh.” 

Aya rolled his eyes again. He waited until a waiter exited through the door and quickly, stealthily slipped through the closing gap. The door swung closed behind him, reducing the level of music to a constant thump felt through the wall. He crept swiftly and silently down the empty corridor, alert for any people still around, by passing the employee pantry and locker room. At the end of the corridor, he found the staircase Yohji told him about and went up to the second floor. The doors on this level were labeled, simplifying his search. One gloved hand tested the doorknob to Takeda’s office and he decided that it could be picked. Like a ghost, he slipped into the dark office, lit periodically by the spotlights flashing through the viewing window from the dance floor below, and locked the door behind him. Keeping carefully away from the window, Aya made his way to the desk and booted up the computer. 

Aya was nowhere near Omi’s level when it came to hacking skills, but he was proficient enough to navigate through the files and find what he was looking for. He slipped in a floppy disk and quickly copied information, waiting impatiently for the computer to finish copying. 

50%…55%…60%… he silently counted. 

His head jerked up from the screen when he heard the footsteps approaching his way. Acting swiftly, he turned off the monitor and hunched down behind the desk, hoping that the noise from below would cover the sounds of the computer busy at work. 

Aya heard a key turned and the door creaked open. Light slated into the darkened office as the guard took a cursory check. What seemed like an eternity later, the door closed again. Aya let out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. He must be seriously rusty if such a tiny disruption was enough to agitate him. 

Crawling cautiously out from under the desk, Aya turned the monitor back on. Retrieving the floppy disk, he shut down the computer and tucked the disk securely into a hidden pocket in his leather jacket. Checking to see if the corridor was empty, Aya slipped out of the office, locked the door and calmly, quickly made his way back to the stairs. He was almost halfway down the stairs when he spotted someone coming up from below and smoothly backtracked. 

“Hey, you!” 

Aya didn’t bother to look back. He proceeded further up the stairs to the third level, breaking into a run when he reached the top. There were few doors up here and even fewer that were unlocked. He slipped into the first unlocked room he came across, shutting the door as quietly as he could. 

The hair on the back of his neck rose at the same time he heard a voice behind him. 

“Well, you must be Takeda-san’s surprise.”


	5. Act One Scene Three

The minute the words left his mouth, Saito Hajime knew he was wrong. Golden eyes narrowed as the newcomer spun round in surprise, taking note of the unconscious grace, the defensive stance and the twitching hand as though aching for a weapon. The only source of light was the lamp on the table next to his armchair, casting the rest of the room in shadows, preventing Saito from making out the face of this unexpected surprise. From the little he could see, however, Saito knew it was a male, a young male tense but calm. 

Impressive. Out of curiosity, Saito decided to drum up his mistaken notion. “Come forward into the light.” 

There was a pause and cautiously the younger man stepped forward. 

Saito’s heart skipped a beat. The wild thought that Kenshin was here flashed through his mind, to be discarded just as quickly. Whoever this exotic young man was, he was not Battousai though his colorings resembled that of the former hitokiri. 

And he was so very beautiful. 

Short crimson hair, ending in the odd eartails. Skin so pale that it could have been carved from alabaster. Finely chiseled but distinctively masculine features. And eyes the color of purple orchids, hard and cold. Saito looked him over, taking in the lithely muscled body encased in skin-tight leather that left little to the imagination. So fucking beautiful and sexy that he would make even a straight man lust openly for him. 

“Exquisite.” 

Violet eyes narrowed. Saito smiled inwardly. Judging from the offended reaction, the young man was certainly not a whore. Which made the game all the more amusing. 

“Come here.” 

The young man glared at him instead. Abruptly his gaze jerked back to the door. Both men could hear the sounds of doors opening and closing as the security guards combed through the levels. That seemed to make up the young man’s mind. In quick steps, he was across the room and in Saito’s lap, straddling him in a very intimate manner. 

Saito’s eyebrows quirked up in surprise. The young man’s sudden change of mind was not unpleasant. In fact, having a lapful of the slender and sexy man was doing something to his libido that he hadn’t expected. His heartbeat sped up when the younger man wound his arms about his shoulders and neck, pressing closer to him till there was barely space between them, head bent as though to kiss him. 

The door suddenly banged open. Saito’s golden eyes narrowed at the intrusion. At the same time, he felt the young man tensed in his arms, keeping his face hidden in the crook of his neck. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Saito questioned frigidly. 

“Gomen nasai, Fujito-san. But I’ve spotted an unauthorized person wandering about. We are just searching for him.” 

“Oh? How does the intruder look like?” 

“I didn’t have a good look, Fujito-san. But he looked a bit like him.” 

The absolute rigidity in the young man sprawled across his lap told Saito all he needed to know. He debated whether to turn the young man over but decided against it. 

“Well, he’s not your intruder. He has been with me all the while, a gift from Takeda-san.” 

“O-our apologies, Fujito-san. We are not aware of that. We will leave at once.” 

The door closed behind them. 

Aya waited tersely for another moment before pushing away from the lean man he was curled up against. A startled noise escaped him as he was abruptly pulled back against the hard lean chest again. Arms pinned between them, all he could do was glare at the lecherous man. 

“Release me,” he demanded tightly. 

“So he can speak,” came the amused reply. “I don’t suppose you are the intruder they’re looking for.” 

Aya tried again to pull free but the steel grip wouldn’t relent. 

“I deserve some kind of payment for helping you out.” One white-gloved hand lightly grasped him by the back of his head, effectively stopping his struggles. 

Aya froze. Those golden eyes – coolly assessing, calculating and so intense – they reminded him of the eyes of a wolf on the hunt and he was the prey. He had never seen eyes like these before, nor had he ever felt this way. 

The lean austere face bent, a hint of a dangerous smile curving the thin lips. “I think I’ll take this as payment.” 

Thin lips descended, taking Aya’s mouth in a hard kiss. For a wild moment, Aya’s mind refused to work, eyes impossibly wide with shock. The kiss continued, expert teeth and tongue caressing his full lips, sending shivers down his spine. It was a closed-mouth kiss but the sheer relentless passion in it was enough to make Aya tremble and his nerves burn. 

The desire to kiss back was what jolted him into action. Tearing almost brutally away, Aya struggled to break free. Surprisingly enough, the dangerous man released him. Aya stumbled backward, one hand covering his mouth. He could still feel his lips burning from that kiss. 

The man smirked, the tip of his tongue licking his lips. “Till we meet again, kitten.” 

Aya bolted. 

Saito remained where he was, smirking with sheer pleasure. Leaning his head back, he licked his lips again, still tasting the sweetness of the young man. His mind, however, was assessing the consequences of the entry of an unexpected force. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together, especially when he heard rumors of a second redhead leading WeiB. 

Now Kritiker was back and they have obviously taken an interest in his quarry too. 

Saito lit up a cigarette, watching the curling smoke with languid glittering eyes. 

This was turning out to be an interesting mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s post-script:   
> I guess it’s pretty obvious to everyone by now who’s the seme and who’s the uke. It’s funny but I could never picture Aya as seme. He just seems too beautiful for that. Anyway, this act took a long time in development. When I mean long, it usually means half to one full year. Yep, that bad. I didn’t want them meeting under ordinary circumstances, neither do I want them meeting in the midst of danger. For some reason, the nightclub seems to be a good compromise and a very, very suitable to their first…ahem, introduction.
> 
> How I even come up with this crossover is something I don’t quite understand myself. It just whamped me over the head and it’s impossible to put aside. It started as two PWPs but I don’t really like to do aimless writing, so here it is with some kind of plot.


	6. Act Two Scene One – A Week Later

“Aya? Aya!” 

Aya blinked as he suddenly noticed the hand waving in front of his face – and beyond that, the poor drowned potted plant. Cursing mentally, he quickly put aside the watering can and hurriedly poured out the excess water from the pot. 

“What’s bothering you, Aya?” Ken asked in concern. “You’ve been so distracted ever since our last mission.” 

“I’m fine,” the redhead replied shortly. 

“Fine doesn’t cut it, Aya. This is the third plant you almost drowned this week.” Ken folded his arms. “Something must have gone wrong on that mission.” 

“Nothing went wrong on the mission. I’m just thinking, that’s all.” 

“Brooding, you mean.” 

Aya refused to deign that with a response. He replaced the rescued potted plant on the shelf and glanced at the clock. Another minute until his shift is over. He debated whether to leave on time or wait until Yohji arrives, then decided on the former. Knowing Yohji, he would be fashionably late by at least fifteen minutes. Aya took off his apron and hung it up on the peg behind the counter. 

“I’ll be out late,” he told Ken. 

“Where are you going?” 

“A walk.” 

He pulled on a jacket and left the flower shop. Outside a chill wind blew. It was still autumn but already the temperature had plummeted. Aya buttoned up his jacket and tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. Gaze fixed to the pavement, he wandered down the street. 

The memory of that night was still burnt deeply in his mind. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t forget that man – the leanness of that angular face, the sheer confidence and power in that lean body. Golden eyes that had noted and categorized him in one glance, watching him like a wolf on the prowl. 

Aya shivered, one hand unconsciously reaching up to his lips. 

He couldn’t forget how the man had taken his first kiss and in return gave him the knowledge that he actually liked the kiss. He knew he was sorely lacking in education when it came to intimacy. His reserved introverted nature, coupled with his family tragedy and later on, a single-minded focus on revenge didn’t leave any room in his life to learn how to flirt, to explore relationships, romantic and sexual. He didn’t know how to handle such situations. Hell, he hadn’t even known he was inclined to his own gender. 

When he left the club that night, it took all his willpower to maintain his impassive mask in front of his friend. Inside, he was a mess – his body thrumming with strange but not unpleasant sensations and his emotions in turmoil. He didn’t understand how a single kiss could affect him that much. It was just physical contact, that’s all. But for a week after the mission, Aya kept waking up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting, his cock heavy and rigid with arousal and demanded attention. He couldn’t remember his dreams, except for hints of golden eyes gleaming with possessive passion. 

Aya sighed, looking up to his surroundings. 

His feet had automatically taken him to the park, a tiny green haven in a concrete jungle. This was where he spent most of his free time when he was not working at the flower shop or on a mission. It was quiet and peaceful here, a place where for a few hours, he could pretend to be who he was supposed to be – a simple florist leading a quiet normal life. 

Aya sat down on his customary bench, violet gaze fixed on the small children playing on the playground nearby. His hard gaze softened as he remembered days past where he used to bring his imouto to the playground near their house. One hand absently reached up to his earlobe, rubbing the naked flesh, feeling the tiny hole where the one half of his sister’s earrings used to be. 

Not for the first time, loneliness raked their cold fingers across his heart. His vengeance was completed and his imouto awake and well, living her life now. He could have reunite with her, but he chose not to. Aya-chan didn’t need a brother whose hands were stained with blood and sin. It would be better for everyone if they never meet. 

Cold comfort. 

At twenty-one, hovering at the cusp of legal adulthood, Aya was left with nothing now, but the skills for killing and flowers. He had willingly sold his soul to this life and it was too late to back out. He fully understood this when he accepted Kritiker’s offer on that fateful day but the knowledge didn’t stop the emptiness aching within him. 

The muffled sound of his cell phone ringing broke his morose reverie. 

“Moshi-moshi.” 

“Aya,” Ken said over the line. “Omi’s here for ‘dinner’.” 

“Ah. I’m coming home now.”


	7. Act Two Scene Two – The Next Night

Aya ran as though the demons were at his heels, which was not that far from the truth. Last he counted, there were five henchmen chasing him through the alleys and back streets of Tokyo. 

In the distance, several streets away, the building that once housed Takeda’s drug lab was burning merrily to the ground – courtesy of WeiB. It wasn’t easy though. Kritiker hadn’t been able to get a fix on the number of guards in that place, and WeiB barely managed to complete their mission and get out there in one piece. They have split up to increase their chances of escape. Aya was on his own, weaving a confusing path through the city in his attempt to shake off his pursuers. 

There had been seven henchmen after him. Aya had cut down two before a bullet rendered his right arm useless. Every move he made sent sparks of pain shooting up his arm. Blood seeped from his wound, running down the sleeve of his leather trench coat to fall in scarlet droplets from his fingertips. He was leaving a trail any idiot could follow and he was almost on the verge of blacking out from the loss of blood. But he held on grimly, unwilling to let some nameless thugs snuff out his life in a cold nameless alley. 

Aya stumbled to a halt, cursing. He had taken a wrong turn somehow and now found himself in a dead end. He didn’t stop to think. When cornered, do the unexpected. The wounded redhead whirled round and charged his pursuers, bloody katana singing in a wide slash. Seizing their hesitation brought about by their surprise, he cut them down in a series of quick attacks. Crimson blood splattered the alleyway, shining almost black under the moon. 

The last of the henchmen somehow managed to evade his attack. Aya turned, stumbling a little as his head swam with dizziness. The sudden weakness brought him down to one knee, held up only by his katana. 

Get up!

Gritting his teeth, Aya began struggling desperately to his feet, trying to put up some kind of defense to meet his opponent’s attack. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the flash of a-a…fang(?) and the shadow that darted past him to savagely cut down the henchman. Warm blood splashed across his face, jolting him from the haze of pain that threatened to drown him. 

Aya hauled himself to his feet, his left hand raising his katana defensively. Pain-filled violet eyes glared at the newcomer flicking the blood away from his sword. 

“Not bad,” spoke a disturbingly familiar voice. “Taking out four opponents in your condition.” 

The tip of a cigarette glowed faintly in the darkness. He stepped forward, sheathing his long Nippon sword, and Aya’s eyes widened with surprise. 

It was him! The man from the nightclub! 

“Hello again, kitten.” He smirked at Aya’s astonished expression. 

Belatedly Aya remembered that this man had some dealings with Takeda, which made him an enemy as well. Which meant he had to be eliminated. Aya aligned his katana and charged. If he had been thinking more clearly, if he hadn’t been so wrecked with pain, he would know straight away attacking the man in his current condition was courting death. 

As it is, the man easily avoided his attack, one white-gloved hand stopping his thrust. The other hand clamped over his bleeding shoulder, squeezing the bullet wound. 

Pain exploded in a fiery burst.

The last thing Aya saw were smirking golden eyes before blackness claimed him.

* * *

The room finally chose to focus in his vision.

Aya laid unmoving, eyes fixed to the unfamiliar white ceiling above him. There was a dull throbbing in his right shoulder and he felt about as weak as a newborn baby. There seemed to be a thick fog in his mind; everything seemed so distant and unreal. It took a long time before the feeling that he was in a strange place finally seeped through to his drugged mind. 

The urge to leave this place, wherever it was, and go home finally kicked in. Feebly, he tried to get up. Sharp pain exploded through his shoulder, setting his nerves on agonizing fire. Aya collapsed in a wrecking heap of agony, his panting loud and harsh in the silence of the room. Cold sweat broke out over his bare skin, causing him to shiver further in the cool air. The only good thing to come out of this maneuver was that the pain cleared a little of the fog in his mind. 

“Finally. You’re awake.” 

With great effort, Aya turned his head to the direction of the voice. His heart lurched when he saw the man reclining against the windowsill. 

Slicked back raven hair and keen amber-gold eyes that never missed anything and gave nothing away. Neatly pressed shirt and tie, the crisp lines emphasizing the lean sinewy form. Gloved hands folded neatly in his crossed lap, a cigarette dangling from the corner of those thin lips. 

The man looked every bit the same as Aya had remembered him from that night. 

Aya’s violet eyes darted about the room, taking in the traditional Japanese décor, the closed window and door. “Where am I?” 

“My safe house. You’ve been here for almost three days.” Saito dislodged the ash from his cigarette in the ashtray beside him. “It’s not everyday I find someone like you interfering in my work.” 

Aya’s eyes narrowed as he recalled the night of the mission. “Why did you save me?” 

“Least I could do for someone who did my work for me.” 

“What do you mean? Aren’t you Takeda’s man?” 

Saito snorted derisively, grounding out his cigarette in his ashtray. “I’m working undercover to destroy Takeda and his organization.” 

“You’re a cop?” 

“Iie.” Saito got up and padded over to the futon. He sat down next to the wary redhead, watching with concealed amusement as Aya discreetly edged away from him. 

“Then who the hell are you?” 

“Good question. Who are you? First time I saw you, I almost mistook you for a whore. Next, I find you wielding a sword in battle.” 

Aya glared at him. “You won’t get anything out of me, old man.”

In a quicksilver move, Saito grasped Aya’s chin and pulled the younger man up close. “I’ve heard rumors of a second Japanese in WeiB -” 

The violet gaze grew wide.

“- said to posses the same colorings as the Hitokiri Battousai – red hair and purple eyes.”

“H-how did you know so much about WeiB?” Aya whispered. 

Saito simply grinned wolfishly at him. He released the younger man, allowing Aya to fall back on the futon. “I’ll make you a deal, kitten. Tell me everything you know about the latest incarnation of Kritiker and Persia and I will help you kill Takeda Kanryou.”

Aya’s chin rose up defiantly. “Why should I?”

“Because after your stunt three days ago, Takeda would increase his security and there’s no way a three-men assassin team can get past his defenses from the outside. From the inside, however, it’s a different story.” Saito rose to his feet, looking down at the still figure on the futon. “Think carefully. I offer only once.” 

His calm neutral voice drifted back to Aya as he made his way to the door. “I am a patient man with many resources, kitten. One way or the other, I will find out.”


	8. Act Two Scene Three

The sound of blows drifted clearly from the opulent study room. 

“Useless! Good-for-nothings!” 

Takeda threw down his golf club and glared at the battered henchman curled at his feet. “Four days and you still can’t find a trace of the bastards who destroyed my drug lab. Incompetent!” 

“Takeda-sama.” 

“What is it?” He snapped at his butler. 

“Fujito-san is here to see you, Takeda-sama.” 

Takeda cursed briefly. More than a week ago, he had struck a very lucrative deal with a very rich Kyoto client. He cannot afford to lose this very rich Kyoto client if he wants to establish a network there. This sabotage of his operations came at a really lousy timing. 

“Get up,” he coldly ordered his henchman. “Get out there and find me those responsible by the end of the week. Or I’ll have your head.” 

“H-hai, Takeda-sama!” 

Takeda put away his golf club and straightened his Western suit. “Show Fujito-san in.” 

By the time Fujito entered, Takeda was his oily pleasant self again. “Ah, Fujito-san, welcome to my mansion.” He ushered the tall lean man into his study. 

Today, Saito wore a dark blue Mao-style suit. His expression was non-existent. “I’ve heard about the incident at your lab, Takeda-san.” 

“It’s just a minor setback, that’s all.” Takeda was quick to say. 

“Still, I am concerned.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Fujito-san. The first exchange will still be made as scheduled.”

Saito smiled, the broad curving of thin lips crinkling up his face and his eyes into slits, giving him a pleasant and harmless appearance. “I’m relieved to hear that, Takeda-san. I wouldn’t want our first business deal to fall through because of some unfortunate incident.” 

“I share your sentiments, Fujito-san. Will you stay for lunch? My cook has prepared some really delicious steaks today.” 

“Sounds delicious.” 

Takeda smiled with pleasure. “After you, Fujito-san. We can discuss our lucrative future over lunch.”

* * *

KaY was closed today, as it had been closed for the last three days. 

Yohji sighed as he rested his chin up on the broom, eyeing the empty darkened shop with worried eyes. Three days since the fiasco of a mission. He had been the first to arrive home hours after completing the mission, having easily given his pursuers the slip, to find Omi waiting for them. The poor kid had been nearly worried out of his mind, since this was the first strike mission WeiB had taken without him on board. 

Yohji couldn’t blame him. Being the oldest, he often felt a sense of responsibility for his younger teammates, despite of what his playboy image said about him. 

Ken had arrived home nearly a day later. Apparently, Siberian had a tougher time escaping. His clothes stunk suspiciously of the sewers and he was bleeding from his side. Omi immediately sprung into action, taking care of the wounded brunette, while Yohji scouted the area for signs of pursuers. Thankfully, the wound was just a bullet graze. After a day’s rest, Ken was back on his feet. 

There was still no sign of Aya yet. Kritiker agents had been searching for the missing redhead for two days already without success. Yohji would not admit it to anyone – Aya, least of all – not even under pain of torture but he was extremely worried. Granted Abyssinian was more than capable of taking care of himself, but even the best was still human. It had never taken him this long to rejoin them before. 

Putting the broom away, Yohji went upstairs to their apartment. Ken was in the living room, restlessly playing with his soccer ball, a darkness that hadn’t been seen since those crazy days in Kyoto in his brown eyes. 

“Any luck?” Yohji quietly asked him, eyes fixed on Omi talking on his cell phone. 

Ken shook his head. 

“He’ll be fine,” Yohji said with a confidence he didn’t quite feel. “This is Aya we’re talking about.” 

“What about Takeda?” Ken asked. “When do we take him out?” 

“Not in the near future. The slime ball has beefed up his security. Even if WeiB has been at full strength, it would be impossible to infiltrate and assassinate him. At any rate, we can’t do anything now until we have found Aya.” 

Omi padded over to them, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“What’s up, bishounen?” 

“I just received some intriguing news from one of my agents. Yohji-kun, do you remember seeing a tall man with slicked back hair and light-colored eyes during your mission?” 

“At the nightclub or the drug lab?” 

“Both.” 

Yohji thought long and carefully. Finally he shook his head. “Sorry, no. Why do you ask?” 

“It seems like Kritiker isn’t the only one interested in Takeda.”

* * *

“So this is Saito Hajime – last of the Mibu’s Wolves.” Omi put down the photograph of Saito entering Takeda’s estate with a frown. “I can see how he got his reputation. How did you know what he looks like? All personal records of the Mibu’s Wolves have been destroyed, including photos.” 

“I saw him once just before the First Power Play,” the middle-aged Kritiker agent replied. “He was much younger back then, but even so I was struck by his chi.” 

“Chi?” 

“The aura of a swordsman. Saito possessed an extremely focused and very fierce chi. He was most definitely a killer, one without conscience, pragmatic, cold and calculative. Aku soku zan – that is his only code.” The agent shuddered. “He’s not someone you can easily forget.” 

“Still he is only one man up against Takeda’s organization.” Omi eyed the photograph speculatively. “I’m giving you a new mission.”

“Takatori-sama?” 

“Find Saito Hajime and put a constant surveillance on him. I want to know everything about him – where he lives, how he operates, so forth. I want to know whether it’s possible to persuade him to rejoin Kritiker.”

“Hai!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s post-script notes:  
> Things are definitely heating up between Saito and Aya. How? Well, I’m devoting the whole of the next act to them. I actually wanted to give Takeda a more beefy role but I decided to keep the main focus on their relationship instead. So what does Omi wants with Saito? Sub-plot there, which might prove to be a surprising conclusion.


	9. Act Three Scene One

Aya peered carefully through the small gap in the wood-and-paper sliding door. Seeing that the hallway was empty, he slipped out of the bedroom. Clad in a white button-down shirt and blue jeans one size too big for him, he padded on silent bare feet to the wooden staircase. 

He must get out of here. Injury or not, he cannot afford to remain prisoner to someone wanting to know more about Kritiker. So what if the man claimed he was an undercover vigilante? Aya had no proof that he wasn’t working for Takeda. At any rate, Aya had no wish to mix up with someone who smelled of more blood than him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Aya whirled around when he heard the lazy voice. He glared at the tall form of Saito as he entered the house, toeing off his black leather shoes before stepping in. He didn’t wait for the other man to approach. 

Aya turned tail and ran. He was almost across the living room when someone heavy and strong tackled him to the floor. Aya let out a grunt of pain as he crashed to the wooden floor. Immediately he began to scuffle with his captor. Striking back with his elbow, he felt the bony junction connect with something hard. Aya twisted around, his other fist lashing out. A white-gloved hand blocked his punch, pushed his arm upward and pinned it above his head. His other arm was similarly caught and pinioned. Aya immediately began trying to buck him off. 

“Get off me!” 

In reply, Saito rested his full weight onto Aya’s thrashing body, entangling the younger man’s legs with his own. 

“Teme!” Aya snarled, hating the feel of being overpowered, at the helpless mercy of this particular man. Saito’s brows rose in amusement as he listened to the string of blistering curses Aya was hurling at him. “Get off!” 

“Iie.” 

“Bastard!” Aya hissed. 

“That I am,” Saito agreed amiably. Ever so casually, he used his legs to force Aya’s thighs apart, nestling his pelvis intimately against the thrashing hips beneath him. 

Aya froze instantly, eyes widening with shock. He might not have any experience when it came to intimacy but even he could tell what the semi-hardness pressing into his inner thighs was. “Wh-damn it, get off me!” 

“And I said no,” Saito responded calmly. 

Aya began to struggle again. 

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll quit that.” 

Aya stilled at once. Panting from his exertions, he glared sullenly up at the older man, purple eyes snapping with barely restrained anger and…Saito tipped his head imperceptibly…was that growing apprehension as well? 

Well, now…

Saito thought back to their first meeting; connecting the dots was laughably easy. Unbelievable as it might be, it seemed that the redheaded kitten was untouched. Surprising for an assassin and unfortunately, a weakness in this line of work. Saito smiled, a predatory seductive smile that sent shivers down Aya’s spine. “Have you thought about my offer, kitten?” 

“You won’t get Kritiker’s secrets from me,” Aya retorted. “And don’t call me kitten, old man.” 

Ouch. 

Just for that, Saito decided to give him a harder time. 

“Your loss.” He grinned wickedly down at his redheaded prisoner. “I’ll just have to…’persuade’ you.” 

Aya’s breath caught and a full blush instantly heated his cheeks as Saito shifted above him until he was lying fully on top of the redhead. His heart began racing wildly, almost bursting out of his ribcage, as Saito lowered his head. 

“Don’t -” 

A hard mouth cut through his protest and sealed their lips together. Aya’s thoughts promptly scattered to the four winds as thin lips expertly moved over his, stroking and caressing. The smell of cigarette smoke and just beneath it the overwhelmingly masculine musk went straight to his head, shutting his thought processes down. Aya relaxed, eyes involuntarily falling shut. Teeth nipping along his bottom lip coaxed his mouth to open and he unconsciously obeyed. 

Saito immediately took advantage and delved deeply into the moist cavern. Aya whimpered and trembled as the slick solid warmth explored every bit of his mouth, igniting a fire he never knew existed. He lifted his head up as Saito slanted over his mouth again and again, giving himself up to the domineering passion and lust crashing over him. 

As for Saito, he couldn’t get enough of the taste of the younger man. He never expected the taste to be so…addictive. Sweetness, spice, the bite of sharp steel and darkness, it was all there in an intriguing mix that engulfed his senses. He ravaged that soft succulent mouth unceasingly, trying to get every bit of that intoxicating taste. 

With a hiss of pleasure, Saito broke the kiss for air, his breathing ragged. Beneath him, Aya whined softly in disappointment. Saito smirked; pleased at the response he wrought. The younger man was a vision to behold – a rosy blush staining his high cheekbones, lips wet and swollen from their kiss and parted invitingly as he panted. Purple eyes fluttered open, the flashing brightness of anger darkened to cloudy passion.

This was going to be hard on his control. Saito had no compunctions to use sex as a weapon, but this redhead lying luscious and vulnerable beneath him was pushing all his right buttons and threatened to turn this small session from an interrogation to something…dangerously personal. He was going to have to be more disciplined than usual. 

Saito lifted one hand. With his teeth, he pulled off the white glove and tossed it aside. He bent to recapture those soft lips again as his hand caressed down the length of the trim pliant body and back up underneath the white shirt. Aya moaned and quivered, the touch on his bare skin stoking the fire within him even higher. He jumped when an errant thumb brushed across his nipple. 

Saito tore his mouth away, head ducking to nuzzle and kiss along the younger man’s neck, even as he deftly unbuttoned the white shirt. A loud groan involuntarily escaped Aya as his head fell back, allowing the older man greater access to his neck. His body arched up, unconsciously grounding his erection against the hard-on pressing so intimately against his pelvis. Nipping down the white column of neck to the collarbone, Saito stroked the pale white chest exposed to his view. He licked the bared skin, enjoying the shudder running through the lithe young body, and teased a pale pink nipple into a hard nub with his fingers. 

Whimpering in pleasure and growing need, Aya twisted beneath his sensual touch, nerves set on fire as Saito stroked and caressed him into arousal. 

Saito went back up to his neck again. “Do you like that?” he whispered into a perfect shell of an ear. Teeth nipped along the lobe, ending with a wet exploration of his ear. “Do you want more?” 

Dazed purple eyes opened. “More…?” 

Perversely, Saito stopped his ministering. He even pulled back a little, smirking at the frustrated whine from the younger man. 

“Don’t stop…” 

“Tell me your name.” Saito returned to the willing young man again, teasing the sensitive column of his neck with nipping kisses and licks. Then he asked, “What is your name, kitten?” 

“You won’t get – oh!” Aya cried out and shuddered as Saito sank his teeth into the cluster of oversensitive nerve bundle between his neck and shoulder. 

“More?” Saito licked the sting to soothe it. 

“More…” 

“Name, WeiB. Tell me your name.” 

At this point, whatever fight or resistance poor Aya had has gone out of the window. Completely swamped by his lust, he could do nothing, think of nothing except to satisfy his increasing lust. 

“A-aya,” he gasped out. “Fujimiya Aya.” 

“Aya,” Saito repeated. It was a girl’s name but somehow it suited the redheaded beauty underneath him very well. He cupped the pale flushed face. “Saito Hajime. Nice to meet you, Aya. Let’s continue this game somewhere more comfortable, shall we?” 

Aya blinked dazedly as Saito suddenly pulled away from him. Next thing he knew, he was hoisted over a broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A frisson of anger dampened some of his passion. 

“Put me down!” 

“When we get to our destination.” 

“Bastard!” 

“I think you said that already, kitten.” Saito dropped his seething burden onto the futon. He remained standing for a moment longer, enjoying the tempting sight. 

Disheveled blood-silk hair against pale smooth skin. Fine-boned cheeks flushed with passion and excitement, the compact limbs trembling. The white shirt had slipped off one white shoulder, displaying the delectable curve. Scars, old and new, marred the pale smoothness of his skin, but Saito only found the blemishes attractive. Saito had seen many swordsmen but none of them – except maybe for Shinomori Aoshi – came close to this beautiful young man. 

Exotic. Sexy. Completely, absolutely desirable. 

Again, Saito silently reminded himself to be more careful than useful, lest he find himself completely bewitched by this alluring creature. 

Saito quickly removed his jacket and glove, joining Aya on the futon. He roughly caressed Aya’s erection through the jeans, causing the younger man to gasp and whine in startled pleasure. He smiled wickedly at the younger man. “You will tell me everything you know about Kritiker, Aya.”

“What? No!” Too late, Aya realized Saito’s plan. He instinctively, blindly lunged up, throwing a punch at Saito’s face.

Saito was expecting the reaction though. Grabbing the fist, he smoothly twisted the arm and threw Aya onto his stomach, pressing him across the futon. Before the redhead could recover, the older man yanked his jeans down. He grinned when he discovered that Aya was bare beneath the heavy fabric, and immediately pressed his rigid erection into the sweet crack between the tempting buttocks.

Aya went absolutely rigid. “Don’t…” he gasped out between rapid pants.

Saito ignored his breathless plea. Dropping fully against the slender form, he nibbled on the luscious flesh of Aya’s earlobe while languidly rubbed his erection deep into shielded flesh never touched before. One sly hand skillfully burrowed beneath Aya’s flat tummy to grasp and stroke his weeping cock.

Aya moaned, arching back against Saito’s hard wiry body. Sensations he had never experienced shot through his nerves. He was on fire; he was in torment. Oh, but it felt so good! Not conscious of his actions, his hips lifted and pressed back and forth, humping Saito’s cock and the hand torturing him.

Saito hissed and tightened his grip on Aya’s wrist. “Who is Persia now?”

“Takatori…” Aya shuddered. “Takatori Mamoru.”

He suddenly found himself flipped onto his back, staring up dazedly at the intent face of Saito. A cry left him as Saito suddenly, painfully tightened his grip on his cock.

“You lied,” Saito stated coldly. “The youngest son died when he was a mere child.”

“No!” Aya clawed at Saito’s shoulders, trying to get him to ease off the painful grip. “Did not die! He was…he was WeiB.”

Saito studied the trembling redhead beneath him. Then he smirked. “So he was. Tell me everything.” And he began to give Aya a handjob.

Aya arched up with a surprised cry of pleasure. He never had anyone stroke him like that before; he hadn’t realized how good it felt! Just in time, Saito squeezed the head of his cock, preventing him from coming. The redhead moaned, aching deeply and unsatisfied. “Please, please…” he didn’t know what he was begging for, just that he needed it. The pleasure was killing him.

Saito released Aya’s cock, provoking another whimper of distress. Unceremoniously, he impatiently pushed apart Aya’s slender legs and lubing up his fingers, he pressed one against the tight ring of muscle.

Violet eyes widened. “Wha-?”

“Relax,” he purred.

“What are you doing?”

Saito paused, staring at the aroused but bewildered young man. With that one question, he realized the extent of Aya’s naivety and the realization only ramped up his own arousal. This was just too rare and Saito, unknowingly to himself, was becoming possessive in his pleasure. Without saying anything, he worked one finger into the tight hole.

Aya gasped in pain and squirmed, trying to get away. “No…”

Saito’s smirk simply grew wider as he curved his finger and pressed.

Pleasure, more intense than anything Aya had ever experienced, exploded through him. He cried out and went limp, eyes closing against the overwhelming sensations. The pain was still there, a burning receding quickly as Saito pushed more clever fingers into him and began stretching and stroking him on the inside, causing multiple explosions through his nerves. Aya bucked his hips, unconsciously impaling himself further onto the fingers. It was too much, too much; it was not enough. 

“I need…” he was nearly incoherent, “I need…”

“Tell me everything first,” Saito drawled, “and I will give more to you.”


	10. Act Three Scene Two

Night has fallen again when Aya finally woke from his exhausted slumber. His skin was sticky with sweat and his whole body ached terribly. Aya frowned groggily. What happened? He shifted and gasped. God, he hurts! Especially his bottom, the soreness was nearly unbearable. He stiffened when he realized he was naked underneath the heavy quilt blanket and when he felt the weight of someone’s arm curled around his waist.

Heart triple-thundering, Aya slowly turned around as best as his sore aching body could. All blood drained from his face when he saw the lean austere face sleeping on the pillow next to his. Memories of yesterday came crashing back, bringing with it a scarlet flush of rage and humiliation to his face. 

He had been…tortured. 

That was the only way Aya could describe what happened. Never mind the fact that it had been extremely pleasurable and it was the best night he ever had. Right now all he could think of was how his resistance had been ruthlessly crushed to nothing, how skillfully he had been reduced to a writhing mess of unfulfilled sexual pleasure, and how he had begged the older man to end the sweet torture. They had spent the whole day and night in bed, with Aya at Saito’s sexual mercy, as he patiently used Aya’s newly awakened passion to extract every bit of information about Kritiker. He remembered vividly how Saito’s fingers had manipulated him so skillfully in his most intimate place, coaxed him to spread his legs like a whore. 

And Aya had been too inexperienced to stop him. 

He mentally cursed himself. He had no one to blame but himself for being a willing partner-in-crime. He ached for the solid presence of his katana. He had a good mind to chop this manipulative wolf into tiny pieces and later, stab himself with it.

Wolf. 

Saito Hajime. 

Aya froze when the name popped into his mind. Purple eyes stared at the slumbering face of his bed partner as his mind made one connection after another. He remembered the stories Shion had told him when he was under the swordsman’s tutelage, bits and pieces of Kritiker’s history. Within those bits of pieces, Shion had told him much about the Mibu’s Wolves and its third and last leader who could be the living embodiment of the order. 

Masaka… 

He should have known it was the notorious Mibu’s Wolf from the first moment he saw the older man. Black of hair, golden eyes and with an attitude that was quite unmistakably a Mibu’s Wolf. He was one of the most feared warriors in Kritiker, next to the Hitokiri Battousai. Stories about them were still told even today. 

How the hell could he not have recognized him? 

Very carefully, very slowly, Aya crawled from the futon, never removing his eyes from the sleeping Saito. Walking hurt, his legs simply refused to bear his weight. But Aya forced himself upright and to keep moving, fear and horror driving him on. Keeping absolutely quiet, he awkwardly dressed himself in the white shirt and jeans, pausing to pull on Saito’s navy jacket. He didn’t want to freeze in the autumn chill before he got home. As stealthily as he could, he stumbled from the bedroom, fumbled with his boots and fled.

If he had bothered to look back, he would have seen a silhouette at the bedroom window, telltale smoke curling from a cigarette held between lean long fingers.

* * *

It was almost dawn when Aya finally made his way back to the flower shop. Tired and buckling under unfamiliar pain, Aya stumbled into the building. His trembling legs finally gave out and he slumped to the floor in the hallway. He prayed his teammates would not find him in this helpless state. 

“Aya! You’re back!” Ken’s cry echoed through the quiet building, dashing his hopes. The brunette hastened down the stairs from the third level and rushed to his side. “You’re hurt!”

Aya pushed away Ken’s helping hands. Right now he didn’t want anyone to touch him. “I’m fine. Just exhausted.”

“You look terrible. I’m going to get a doctor.”

“No!” Aya said sharply.

“But-“

“I said no.” He couldn’t let anyone know what a fool he had been. He forced himself back onto his feet. “It’s just fatigue. I’ll be fine after a rest.”

As Ken looked on in anxious silence, Aya stiffly made his way up the staircase. 

“Ohayo,” Yohji said from the top of the staircase, clad only in a worn pair of jeans. “Daijoubu des ka?”

“Daijoubu.” Aya pushed past the blond. He moved towards his bedroom, keenly aware of Yohji following him.

“You look like you need a doctor,” the blond commented.

“Urusai,” Aya snapped.

“So what happened?” the blond asked, knowing better than to pry. 

“I spent the last three days on the run,” Aya lied. 

“And the clothes?”

“Had to ditch my assassin gear. The blood was conspicuous.”

“Yours or theirs?”

“Theirs,” Aya answered shortly.

“What’s wrong with you? You don’t seem to be able to walk properly.”

Aya’s lips thinned. By this time, he had reached his bedroom and he quickly ducked in, eager to get away from Yohji’s assessing gaze. He was about to close the door in Yohji’s face when a foot against the doorjamb stopped him. 

“What?” he growled irritably. 

“What aren’t you telling me, Aya?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’ve always been lousy at lying.” 

“I’m not lying.” 

“Then look me in the eye and repeat that.” 

Aya leveled a full Fujimiya glare at him. “Knock it off, Yohji. I’m in no mood for your Twenty/Twenty.” 

Yohji stared at him long and steadily. Then he backed down. “If you don’t want to tell me, fine with me. But when Persia comes later, you better tell him everything. He’s been worrying about you.” 

Aya closed the door. 

Alone at last, he made his way to his bed. He undressed with great difficulty and finally allowed himself to collapse, lying on his side on the soft mattress. After those bouts of sex and crossing nearly half the city on foot, he was so relieved to finally be able to lie down and rest his aching body. 

The things Saito made him feel…

He felt his cheeks heating at the memories. He was furious and humiliated; he should be hating Saito for using sex to manipulate him, but he found himself hating himself instead. 

Strange.

He didn’t know why. Was it because Saito hadn’t done it out of malice? 

Aya closed his eyes. He was so confused.

The man was the last Mibu’s Wolf, he told himself desperately. Aku soku zan. Nothing else exists for him other than that coda. Nothing.

* * *

Omi came straight after school, taking care to enter by the back door much as Aya had done at dawn. Ken met him in the back room, accompanying him up to the third level.

“How is he?” Omi asked anxiously.

“He ate, he bathed and he slept the morning away. He’s been awake for hours now but he hasn’t budged from his room. You know Aya when he’s in one of his brooding fits.”

“Did he say anything about his mission?”

“Not to me and not to Yohji either. Something seems to be troubling him but he’s not saying.”

“Was he injured in any way?”

Ken shrugged helplessly. “He seems to be but he refused to let anyone tend to him. You know how he is.”

“Typical.”

“Very.”

Ken knocked on Aya’s bedroom door. “Aya? Omi’s here to see you.”

Moments later, the door clicked open. Omi smiled brightly at the somber redhead. “Afternoon, Aya. Can I come in?”

Aya said nothing, simply stepping back into his bedroom again, leaving the door open. Omi entered the sparsely decorated bedroom after asking Ken to let them talk in private. He placed his bag by the door and eyed his quiet friend curled up on the couch by the window. He wore an oversized black turtleneck sweater and jeans, feet wrapped in soft white socks. The black hue of his clothes made Aya seemed all the more paler and contrasted sharply against his blood-red hair. In all, he looked well but Ken’s assessment about Aya’s injuries came to Omi’s mind. Something about the way Aya sat on the couch didn’t seem natural.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.” 

Omi sat down next to Aya. “Can we get a doctor to verify that fact?”

“I’m fine, Omi. Leave it alone.”

Omi huffed but decided not to push – for now. “You know why I’m here.”

In his usual calm monotone, Aya briefed Omi on his misadventures after escaping the burning drug lab. He told his friend nearly everything, leaving out Saito’s bed games and the fact that he had met the Mibu’s Wolf before in the nightclub. He didn’t think it would do anyone any good to know how the information was extracted from him. And besides, it was extremely embarrassing and very personal.

“Do you know the way to his safe house?”

“Yes. But it’d useless. By now, he would have realized I’m gone and he’d abandon his safe house.”

“True. You wouldn’t, by any chance, know how to get in touch with him again, would you?”

“No. Why?”

“Kritiker needs him back,” Omi told him. “Kritiker is still extremely unstable. Any hints of corruption within will destroy it forever. I need the Mibu’s Wolf to safeguard Kritiker’s interests again.”

“If Saito was interested in rejoining Kritiker, wouldn’t he have done so after the First Power Play?”

“I would just have to be extremely persuasive then.” Omi sighed. “If only there was some way to get in touch with him.”

“Don’t pin your hopes on it.” Aya’s gaze strayed briefly to the navy blue jacket draped neatly over his chair before looking out of the window.


	11. Act Three Scene Three

Aya woke suddenly. 

For a long moment, he laid in his bed, wondering what had disturbed his sleep. His bedroom was quiet and dark. Moonlight streamed in through the closed window, casting his bed partially in light. From where his couch was, he heard the telltale click of a lighter being ignited. 

Aya shot upright in bed. There seated comfortably on his couch, lighting a cigarette was the tall lean form of Saito.  
“What – how -?” He stared at Saito in surprise and confusion. The location of the flower shop was the only information Aya had managed not to give during their bed games. 

“I placed a tracer in your boots, kitten. It led me to this place.” Saito inhaled and calmly blew out the cigarette smoke. “Excellent cover. Who would ever suspect three harmless florists to actually be assassins?”  
“What are you doing here?” Aya demanded tersely. “I’ve told you everything I know about Kritiker.” 

“But not this flower shop apparently.” 

“What do you want from me, Mibu’s Wolf?” 

“So I’ve been found out,” Saito smiled thinly. “I suppose Persia knows about me.” 

“Ah. He wants to talk to you.” 

“Sou ka.” Saito dropped his cigarette to the floor and ground it out, ignoring Aya bristling with outrage at the treatment of his parquet floor. 

The redhead watched warily as Saito walked over to his bed and dropped a large bag and a long wrapped object next to it. “Your assassin gear and katana.” 

“Arigato. Now leave.” 

“I didn’t come here to return you your things.” 

A shiver of alarm ran through Aya when Saito shrugged out of his jacket. In a flash, he shot over to the other side of his bed, his back pressing against the wall. 

“W-what are you doing?!” 

Saito’s brow arched upward sardonically, ‘what do you think?’ 

“No,” Aya stated emphatically. “You’re not going to torture me again.” 

Saito slipped off his shoes and climbed onto the bed, crawling over to the agitated redhead. Aya tried to get away, but lean hard arms slammed against the wall on both sides of his head. Saito crowded the slender man against the wall, golden eyes gleaming with feral passion. 

“Torture? Don’t tell me you didn’t like what we did.” 

“You raped me!” Aya hissed.

“Did I now? I don’t remember penetrating you. In fact I remember you begging for my touch.”

“You used me to get the information you want,” Aya hissed. “You used me like a…a toy!”

“And I’m here to make up for that slight.”

“I don’t believe you.” Aya raised his arms, shoving against the hard chest. “Leave my room. Now!” 

Saito refused to budge. “You should know, Aya, once a wolf has got its eyes on its prey, it would never give up until it gets what it wants.”

Aya swallowed hard at the pure predatory intent smoldering in those golden eyes. “A-and what does the wolf wants?” he asked, dreading the answer. 

Saito’s head came closer and closer. Over the thundering of his heart, Aya heard a single whispered word “you” before the hard mouth caught his in a passionate kiss. 

Silence reigned in the dark bedroom for many heartbeats. 

Orchid eyes drifted closed in response to the kiss, sliding warm and urgent over his lips. Like before, the kiss started the fire burning within him, a heavy heat began to gather between his legs. This time knowing what pleasures the older man could give, Aya willingly parted his lips for the questing tongue despite himself. Pale hands fisted against the shirt relaxed, shifting to grip the fabric instead. He simply had no defenses against Saito’s sexual onslaught.

Saito lifted his head, gazing down at the upturned face with hooded eyes. One callused hand cupped Aya’s face, fingers curving about pale cheeks. Beneath long thick lashes, half-lidded purple eyes glimmered with rising passion. 

“I want you, kitten.” Saito told him in no uncertain terms. “Willing and naked beneath me.” 

Aya blinked dazedly. 

“Hot and wet, writhing in pleasure, begging for my touch.” 

A swath of pink dusted across pale cheeks. 

“I want to see you spreading your legs for me, offering yourself to me. I want to fuck you hard, kitten. So hard that you’ll scream and beg for more. I want to claim that tight heat no one had touched before.” 

Aya blushed furiously. Saito’s seductive voice, his lurid description had done its job. He was now completely hard, straining against the soft cotton of his pajamas. Unconsciously he parted his legs, whimpering as a hard thigh inserted in between and rubbed forcibly against his erection. 

Saito kissed him again, devouring his mouth as he pulled Aya tightly into his embrace, one arm around the slender waist and the other bracing the arching back. Aya melted against the older man as he kissed back, eager to learn and experience. Callused hands reached for the front of his pajamas top. A ripping sound echoed in the bedroom as buttons scattered on the bed and Saito pushed the white cotton material from alabaster shoulders. 

Aya’s head fell back as Saito trailed his hot mouth down his neck and to his chest. He gasped and clutched at Saito, pale slim fingers meshing into raven hair, as the older man took a nipple into his mouth, licking and suckling deeply. Hands slipped into his pajamas pants, cupping and massaging the twin globes of his butt. Aya trembled when he felt the teasing stroke along his crack, fingers dipping in ever so slightly to caress the sensitive flesh. 

In one swift move, Saito tumbled the younger man onto his bed, simultaneously pulling off the pajamas pants. Sprawled wantonly against the white sheets, flushed and fully aroused, Aya watched breathlessly as Saito stripped off his clothes, pausing to retrieve a small tube from one pocket. Then he was back, pressing Aya into the mattress with his lean naked body. 

The tall lean man moved down his pale submissive lover, licking and tasting every square inch of skin. Fingers pinched and rolled a nipple while his mouth worked on the other, pulling on it almost painfully. Aya bit the back of a hand to muffle his moans as his other hand clutched at Saito’s shoulder. He arched up, tossing his head back, when callused hands took him firmly and began to pump. 

“Saito…” he whimpered, thrusting his hips in time with the strokes. 

The older man merely grinned. He stopped what he was doing, prompting a disappointed groan from Aya. He pushed pale sleek thighs further apart and a choked cry burst from Aya’s lips as a warm mouth enclosed his rigid length. Hands clawed at the bed sheets as his hips lifted convulsively from the bed. Saito allowed him a few thrusts before pressing the young man firmly against the mattress. He set the pace and timing, driving Aya into frenzy. The redhead groaned and bit his pillow to muffle his enjoyment, unable to do anything but give himself up to the decadent pleasure. 

Aya suddenly stiffened when he felt the gentle touch at his sore entrance. “Stop-!”

“Sshh,” Saito soothed. “It doesn’t have to hurt.”

Aya glared at him. “You’re the one who made it painful.”

Saito tipped his head in acknowledgement. “So relax and don’t fight it.”

“It-it’s too soon.”

“No,” Saito purred. “Nothing is too soon. Relax, kitten, or it will hurt even more this time.”

Aya took a deep breath and tried his best to relax, half-curious and half-fearful of what he was feeling. He winced and closed his eyes as the first finger steadily pushed into him. Unlike the night before, Saito proceeded very slowly and carefully. He put a second finger in, and then a third, taking the time to stretch and prepare him. With the tips of his fingers, he searched for the one spot that would send Aya’s world spinning. And grinned triumphantly when he found it. Aya’s eyes shot open and he gasped, clutching Saito’s shoulders as he stroked the sweet spot again and again. 

Seeing Aya almost on the verge of coming, Saito removed his fingers, invoking a whine of disappointment from the panting redhead. He swiftly lubed up his cock and draped Aya’s thighs over his shoulders. Bending over the pale trembling man, he guided his leaking tip to nestle just within the puckered entrance. 

“Look at me,” he ordered in a low voice. 

Aya obeyed. Purple eyes met golden even as he moved restlessly beneath Saito, trying to ease the yawning emptiness within him. 

And Saito pushed. In one slow and unbroken thrust, he buried nearly half his length into the warm constricting channel, muffling Aya’s shriek of surprise with a kiss. The redhead tore his mouth away, panting and gasping, eyes squeezed tightly shut against the painful invasion. God, he felt as though he was being split open.

“…Hurts!” he managed to gasp out.

“It will be fine.” Saito lied very still, patiently waiting for the pain to subside, and licked away the tears that managed to escape from behind closed eyelids. 

With one free hand, he stroked Aya’s wilting erection, using the pleasure to distract him from the pain. He succeeded when finally, small noises of pleasure escaped Aya and his inner muscles loosened its grip on his throbbing erection. Aya turned back to the older man, parted lips seeking for a kiss as he raised his hips in supplication. Patiently and with admirable control, Saito pressed deeper and deeper into the younger man until he was completely seated to the hilt in Aya’s welcoming heat. 

Aya groaned, his mind finally registering the way he had been claimed. This was what Saito meant by penetration, he thought dazedly. He hadn’t realized men could have sex like this. It felt so strange to be stretched and taken in this manner; he could feel Saito’s thick length throbbing within him, rubbing against his inner walls so intimately. Yet…Aya stared wonderingly through his tears at Saito – it felt so incredibly good. He never knew pleasure such as this could exist. 

Braced on his arms above him, Saito hung his head, eyes closed to savor the exquisite pleasure. Kami-sama…Saito shuddered as Aya suddenly flexed around him, squeezing his length. He fought to stay in control but it was so very difficult. Aya was so tight, so hot; it threatened to send him immediately over the edge. 

Golden eyes opened, gleaming with possessive lust. “You’re mine now,” he growled. 

Slowly, trembling with the effort, Saito withdrew until just his tip was barely in and – changing his angle slightly – thrust in again. And Aya’s world exploded into stars when he hit the pleasure spot deep within him. 

His world exploded again as Saito hit the spot repeatedly. Jolts of pleasure ripped through his nerves, pushing him higher and higher. Moaning ceaselessly now, Aya clung to Saito as they moved together in a rhythm as old as time, racing for the climax. Saito covered his mouth with his, swallowing the scream that erupted when earth-shattering pleasure exploded through him and coated his stomach and chest with his own cum. 

His climax caused him to tighten convulsively around Saito. Biting the pale smooth shoulder beneath him to silence his own growl, he gave in to his own climax, thrusting almost involuntarily as he filled the pulsating channel with his seed. Giving one last thrust, Saito collapsed, shifting just in time to keep half his weight off the slender man. 

Beneath him, Aya laid limply, sweaty and exhausted. When his passion-clouded mind finally cleared enough, self-doubts and humiliation began to set in. He felt Saito raising his head and kept his eyes closed, unwilling to see the gloating satisfaction in those gleaming golden eyes. He had given himself so easily to the man; he didn’t need Saito’s mocking to rub salt into the wound. 

“Open your eyes,” Saito said. 

Aya refused. 

“Open your eyes, Aya.” 

It was his name that did him in. Saito had called him by his name rather than ‘kitten’. Aya cautiously opened his eyes, fearing what he would see. He saw pure territorial satisfaction and possessiveness lurking in those golden eyes. There were no tender soft emotions but Aya inexplicably relaxed. Something about that possessive glitter eased all his fear. 

Aya shuddered as Saito pulled out from his oversensitive body, eyes falling shut. They stayed shut as the redhead finally gave in to his exhaustion. He didn’t move as Saito cleaned them up with his pajamas top and settled down beside him. 

The last thing Aya was aware of were Saito’s arms cradling him close before drifting into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s post-script notes:  
> I officially admit that I CAN’T write lemon scenes to save my life, be them hetro or not. *sigh*   
> Saito using sex to his own advantage isn’t really all that surprising to me. He’s highhanded, ruthless, determined to get his way, and will do anything to accomplish his goal. He’s a bit of an anti-hero protagonist, a bad boy, which is why he’s so fascinating. Aya, with all his fiery and passionate nature (like redheads usually are) would find it hard to resist someone like him who is even more of a difficult person to get along with.


	12. Act Four Scene One

The sun was high and bright by the time Aya finally woke up. Turning away from the bright sunlight, he lazily reached over to the other side of his bed – and met cold empty space. 

Orchid eyes flew open immediately. 

He was alone in bed, had been for some time judging from the coolness of the sheets. Aya propped himself up on one elbow and looked about. There was nothing left of Saito’s presence. Wait, the navy jacket he had borrowed from Saito was gone too. Only his wrapped katana and assassin gear by the side of his bed indicated that last night ever happened. 

Aya lay back down in bed, the disappointment leaving a sour taste in his mouth. 

What was he expecting? The man had obviously gotten what he wanted from the beginning. There was no reason for him to hang around like a lover would. All those feelings of being loved and held in a possessive embrace were just that – mistaken emotions on his part. Aya closed his eyes, one hand unconsciously covering his chest. He was just a murderer and murderers do not deserve to be loved. Last night, for all its pleasures, was just a one-night stand. 

Cursing himself for his foolishness, Aya threw back the blanket and winced. God, he hurt twice as bad as before. Every muscle in the lower region of his body was screaming in pain. Even in his most punishing workout, Aya had never felt like this. Carefully, he sat up trying not to put pressure on his raw bottom. He had barely risen to his feet before discovering to his disgust that he could barely walk – again - his legs still shaky. The state of his body, it all reminded him just how well taken he had been last night. 

If only Saito had stayed… 

Aya growled, shaking his head fiercely to shake the wistful notion from his mind. He was alone, always had been and always will be. 

It was during his slow journey to the bathroom on shaky legs that Aya noticed the folded piece of paper on his dresser. Curious, he picked it and opened it. His heartbeat sped up when he saw from who the message was. 

Tell Persia to come to the safe house alone. You know which one. Tonight at seven. Do not be late.

The neatly written note was unsigned and below it was the postscript, ‘come along as well kitten.’

Aya snorted, crushing the paper in his hand. So now he had become the go-between for Saito and Persia. For a wild moment, he debated not going but decided against it. He remembered what Omi told him about Kritiker needing the Mibu’s Wolf. He had experienced enough of the chaos that resulted from its instability, lost too many of those he cared about, and also nearly losing his own life because of it.

Kritiker needed to be strong again. 

And he would do whatever is necessary to help Omi, just like once he had did whatever it took to fulfill his vengeance and care for his imouto.


	13. Act Four Scene Two

They arrived at the safe house at seven o’clock sharp. Just him and Omi. Omi wearing something un-Omi-like – a brown three-piece suit tailored to his teenaged stature. Aya was sure the teenaged boy had secreted a whole bunch of darts and kunai in his suit. In deference to the seriousness of the meeting, Aya wore a black close-fitting turtleneck sweater and brown slacks. He hid his katana and gun beneath the long brown woolen coat he wore. 

Saito was already waiting for them, meeting his guests at the door. He wore a gray Mao-style suit (the man seemed to like the style a lot) and his hands were white-gloved. As usual, a cigarette perched between his thin lips. 

“Good evening,” Saito greeted. “You must be Persia.” 

Omi bowed back solemnly. “You must be Saito Hajime. You already know Abyssinian.”

“Of course,” Saito’s glittering eyes met Aya’s as he answered.

Aya looked away from those lazy amused eyes, suppressing a blush with difficulty. He glowered at the unoffending wall, seeming to find fault in its plaster. 

Omi did not miss the subtle exchange. He wisely chose not to say anything about it. It was clear from their talk yesterday that there were more to his encounter with Saito than Aya was letting on. But knowing the stubborn redhead, Omi was content to wait until Aya was ready to confide in him. It couldn’t have been anything important if Aya wasn’t forced to reveal it.

They took their seats in the living room, Saito and Omi kneeling on the mat with Aya stationing himself by the door. For a long moment, both Mibu’s Wolf and Persia seized each other up.

Saito was exactly as he was in the photograph – a lean hunting wolf, calculative and remorseless, bloodthirsty but not evil. No, definitely not evil. Omi had fought and killed many evil men; he was very keenly attuned to such things. The man was simply a hunter, a predator living by a very rigid coda. If he could persuade Saito to rejoin Kritiker, it would bore well for everybody.

The Mibu’s Wolf was surprised to find Persia to an honest-looking teenaged boy. Even from Aya’s somewhat incoherent description during their bed games, he had not seriously expected Persia to be this young. But the dignity of a Takatori was evident in his carriage; the intelligence and confidence clear in those sky-blue eyes. Young Persia reminded Saito of Saijou-san in some ways.

“I heard from Abyssinian that you are looking for me,” Saito stated lazily.

“Hai. I like to invite you to rejoin Kritiker again.”

Saito took a long drag on his cigarette. “Why?”

“Kritiker is in a very precarious state,” Omi explained. “It needs someone like you to help safeguard it from further damage as it is being rebuilt. And later, it would need the Mibu’s Wolf to assume its role once more.”

“Watching and guarding Kritiker from corruption within,” Saito finished neutrally. “Do you know the reason behind the Wolves’ downfall?”

“You were betrayed from within. That will never happen again.” Omi leaned forward. “Mibu’s Wolves was destroyed because it was a big pack. Though every Wolf shared your sentiments, it was still too easy to convert someone who doesn’t have your kind of willpower and strength of faith, even easier to slip in a deceiver who can pretend to be one of you until it’s too late. No one in such a big pack knew everyone well other to suspect anything.”

“What do you propose?”

“The new Mibu’s Wolves would be a small group. Just you to begin with and anyone you handpick to join the pack.”

“A small pack to safeguard an organization that covers the entire country,” Saito muttered. “You are ambitious.”

“No, just picky. It’s hard to find anyone with your strong sense of justice,” Omi admitted. “You could have returned when Shuuichi-san took over Kritiker but you didn’t. Instead you went underground and remerged with a new identity. I won’t ask why you didn’t choose to return. Most probably there was something about Kritiker that made you lost your trust in us. But Kritiker is different now; Persia is different. I’m not going to repeat the mistakes my father and uncle did. And I…Kritiker really needs your help, Saito-san.” 

Saito studied Omi for a long while as he smoked his cigarette, golden eyes inscrutable and assessing. 

Omi met Saito’s eyes unflinchingly, a silent challenge meeting the one in the golden orbs. He was determined to get Saito back into Kritiker again. 

“Does the world really need an organization like Kritiker?”

“Someone has got to guard the innocents.”

“Power such like Kritiker’s will eventually corrupt the wielder. It has been proven twice, the second time almost claiming the lives of WeiB. One would expect you to learn from those events and lay Kritiker to rest forever.”

“But who will guard the innocents? Who will make sure the guilty ones pay?” Omi spoke earnestly, passion and firm belief bright and intense in his eyes. “When a crime happens, can you honestly see yourself not doing anything about it? I can’t, Saito-san.” 

“True, Kritiker is capable of great harm and good. But that’s what power is in the end – a double-edged sword. How it cuts depends on the wielder. I’m just human, that’s why it’s better for us to run in a pack. We watch each other, and each other’s back. That’s why grandfather created the Mibu’s Wolves in the first place. To watch Kritiker and check its power, and members within the Wolves check each other’s powers. It failed the first time because the pack is too big. If we size it down, it should work.”

Omi sat back, having said his piece. He eyed the silent unimpressed man and decided to go for the pitch. “Onegai, will you help me Saito-san?”

Saito eyed Omi’s bowed form for a long moment. “You certainly aren’t much of a Takatori,” he remarked at last.

Omi blinked, the comment taking him somewhat off guard. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” he asked calmly.

“The Takatoris are known for their eloquence and skilful use of words to persuade people to their cause. You have the eloquence but you lack the polished skill for lying.” 

Saito stamped out his cigarette in the ashtray next to him and mused idly, “I know Reiji Takatori abandoned his youngest son to the evils of the world. One wonders why.”

Omi’s eyes narrowed but he wisely said nothing.

“But that’s in the past.” He lit another cigarette. “I am currently on a hunt. I can only give you an answer a week from now.”

Omi controlled the flash of impatience and disappointment. It was more than he had hoped for. “Very well, a week from now.” He rose from his seat, sensing that their meeting was at an end. 

“Don’t mind if I don’t show you out,” Saito said. “I have business to discuss with the Abyssinian.”

Omi paused, turning a curious look to Aya. The redhead, for his part, was aiming his patented scowl at Saito who was completely unfazed by his icy displeasure. There were not many people who could withstand the full brunt of a Fujimiya Death Glare.

“Very well then. I’ll get the chauffeur to wait for him.”

“No need for that,” Saito replied calmly before Aya could. “I’ll send him home when we’re done.”

The temperature in the room dropped another ten degrees.

“Abyssinian, you are fine with this?” Omi asked.

Long silence as orchid eyes bore into Saito’s profile like lasers, then a sharp nod without breaking the glare. Wisely, Omi decided not to press further. If looks could kill, Saito would be six feet under and rotting already.

“Arigato, Saito-san for consenting to meet with me tonight. I hope you will consider my request. Abyssinian will be able to convey your answer to me.” Omi bowed again and left the living room.

Silence reigned. 

Then Aya rose to his feet and took the few necessary steps to take Omi’s seat. He lowered himself carefully, hiding a wince as he lay his katana by his side. “Well?” he demanded. 

“This Takatori is different from his predecessors,” Saito remarked. “Young, earnest, uncorrupted. Perceptive, but not jaded yet.” 

“Why didn’t you give him an answer then? Coupled with your observations and what I’ve told you, you should be able to make your decision.” 

Saito didn’t answer, serenely puffing on his cigarette. 

“What would it take for you to rejoin Kritiker?” 

There was something about Aya’s tone that caught Saito’s attention. The older man looked intently at the redhead whose cold emotionless gaze was a match for his own inscrutable front. “Are you offering to make a deal on his behalf?” 

Aya’s gaze remained calm and steady. “Hai. Whatever you want.” 

Saito stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette. Sharp golden eyes pinned him to the spot. “Say if I want to own you? Like you are a toy?” 

“Hai.” Aya strove to maintain his indifferent mask. Inside he was feeling anything but indifferent. All his self-preservation instincts were screaming at him, demanding to get the hell out of there and as far away as possible. Somehow he knew instinctively that if he strikes this bargain, he would be effectively sealing his fate. Saito was not the type to easily give up a possession. 

“You owe that much to Persia?” 

“I’ve known him long before he is Persia,” Aya stated flatly. “As long as you rejoin Kritiker and help him, I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

Terse silence descended. 

Aya felt his nerves were about to break from the tension while he saw Saito smiled. Not the mocking or sharp-edged smile, but a smile that somehow softened the harsh lines of his austere face. He blinked. The smile was gone, replaced by Saito’s usual smirk but he swore he did see it. 

“No deal,” Saito answered crisply. 

Aya felt deflated, relieved and inexplicably angry. He had all but offered himself to the man, wasn’t he good enough for Saito? 

*pause* 

He didn’t just think that, did he? 

“It’s late.” 

Aya watched blankly as Saito rose to his feet. A glimmer of amusement crossed his eyes as he looked down at the bewildered pale redhead. 

“Come, I’ll drive you home.” 

Slowly, Aya got to his feet, automatically tucking his katana under his coat. A tiny voice within him was wondering why Saito hadn’t touched him at all, as he followed the older man to the door. 

The point was made moot when Saito grasped his chin and tilted his head up. “If I hadn’t known you’re still sore, I would have taken you tonight. But tomorrow, tomorrow I expect to see you here at seven. Do not be late.”


	14. Act Four Scene Three

So for nearly a week, Aya was a nightly guest at Saito’s safe house. 

Every night he would arrive at seven o’clock sharp, and they would dine and talk about a wide variety of topics. Kritiker was left at the doorstep. After the first time Aya persistently attempted to bring up the topic and Saito had to kiss him to shut him up, the redhead got the message almost immediately. Discussion about work was a taboo on these visits. 

Saito, Aya found out, was quite a gracious host, though he still seemed to take delight in getting a raise out of him. And Aya, despite his misgivings, came to enjoy their time together. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why Saito was being as nice to him as he could possibly be. The paranoid side of him was suspicious and was waiting nervously for the other shoe to drop. But there was another part of him – small, fragile and filled with the softer emotions he thought were long dead – that dared to hope and dream. 

On the sixth day, hope and such thoughts were far from Aya’s mind as he hurried through his shower. The flower shop had been extremely busy today, leaving him with less time than usual to prepare for his visit. Wearing only his boxers and a T-shirt, he went through his closet, wondering what to wear. He wanted to look nice for Saito but his limited supply of shirts was running out; Saito had a thing for tearing the buttons off his shirts before taking him. 

Color tinged his pale cheeks and he smiled slightly at the memories. Sex with Saito was very, very good. In that week, he had gotten quite an education from Saito and surprised himself with his own sexual appetite and stamina in bed. He almost never leaves for home until it was nearly dawn. 

Aya had pulled on a pair of gray woolen pants when there came a knock on his door. “Come in.” He didn’t bother to turn to look as he rummaged through his closet for a top that would hopefully survive the night. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Aya glanced over his shoulder. 

Yohji had closed the door behind him, lounging casually against the wall, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. His green eyes were unreadable. If it was possible, Yohji actually looked serious. 

“No date tonight?” he asked the blond. 

“Nope,” Yohji smiled rakishly. “Even the infamous playboy needs a break to recover every now and then.” 

“Hn.” The redhead smiled again and studied his closet again with a concentration worthy of any mission. What top should he wear? 

“You’ve been going out every night and returning at dawn these couple of days,” Yohji noted casually. 

Aya didn’t answer. 

“You’re the last person I expect to pick up my habits.” 

“If you’re worried about my safety, don’t. I can take care of myself.” 

“We’re concerned about you.” 

A white cable-knitted sweater in hands, Aya paused in mid motion. “’We’?” 

Yohji gave him a look. “Aya, we are living in the same apartment. Of course we noticed.” 

Aya sighed internally and pulled on his sweater. He crossed the room to his dresser and began pulling a hairbrush through his damp hair. “I’m fine, Yohji. I am not courting trouble if that’s what you are worried about.” 

Silence ruled for the next couple of minutes, broken only by the steady sound of Aya brushing his hair. 

“So who’s the guy?” 

Aya whirled around, almost giving himself whiplash, to gape at Yohji. His hairbrush clattered to the floor from nerveless fingers as he tried to kick-start his brain again. 

“Wh-what made you say that?” he managed to blurt out. 

Yohji lazily crossed over to where he was frozen to the spot. Before he could stop Yohji, the blond swiftly pulled up the hem of his sweater and tugged at the waistband of his pants. There, an array of five telltale bruises stood out vividly against the pale tender skin of his hip. 

“It’s a little hard to hide these with the T-shirt you wear.” 

Aya flushed, averting his gaze from Yohji’s knowing eyes. The bruises were from a particularly hot session two days again – Saito had been ravenous that night, taking him hard and fast several times before he was satisfied. Aya stepped away, self-consciously tucking his clothes back into place. 

“So I’m seeing someone. What’s it to you?” 

“Hey, I’ve got no problem with you being gay. I just want to know if the guy is treating you well.” Aya leveled his patented glare at the blond, bristling at his audacity. Yohji, either oblivious or simply used to being glared at by Aya, plowed on nevertheless. “I’m the last person to give love advice on gay relationships. But it still doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this relationship bothers you a lot.” 

“You -” 

“If the guy is making you truly happy,” Yohji continued matter-of-factly, “you wouldn’t be brooding about it all the time.” 

And that, Aya abruptly realized, was the crux of the problem. There was something missing from his relationship with Saito, something he had trouble naming. A sense that the boundaries of their relationship were still undefined. He didn’t know what to make of Saito, didn’t know what the older man really feel for him while he had a nagging suspicion that he was beginning to have feelings for the older man. He didn’t trust easily and yet…it was unsettling to think that someone as callous as Saito had managed to get past all his defenses so quick. 

“I-I got to go.” Badly disturbed, Aya grabbed his wallet and keys, nearly running out of his bedroom to escape Yohji’s concerned gaze. 

But the blond’s comments stayed with him all the while he was driving to Saito’s safe house, gnawing away at the tiny vulnerable part of his heart. Rationally speaking, he knew he should speak to Saito as soon as possible, clear the air once and for all. But fear and doubts gripped him. What if Yohji was right? What if there was nothing more to their relationship than just sex? He lost his family and all the love that came with it in a single horrific night, and it almost killed him. Would he be able to survive that kind of devastation again? 

“Are you going to stay out here the whole night, kitten?” 

Aya jumped, badly startled by the voice at his elbow. Swamped in his thoughts, he failed to notice Saito’s approach to the garage. The older man rested an arm casually on the open car window, eyeing him with an expression he could not decipher. His doubts sprang to the fore again. He could never read Saito’s expression. And they called him the blank slate. 

Saito straightened, opening the car door. “Come, dinner’s waiting.” 

Dinner that night was an awkward affair. Aya was too distracted and consumed with his own doubts to enjoy his meal and hold a decent conversation. Saito make no effort to maintain conversations either. If he noticed Aya’s gloomy mood, he said nothing. 

His advances in the bedroom, however, managed to snare Aya’s attention. 

There was no rough animal passion tonight, that itself was enough to pull him from his troubled mood. Just slow gentle loving that somehow managed to chase the doubts from his heart. He was never more pliant and receptive to Saito’s long languid exploration; feeling oddly cherished with each caress soothing away the loneliness within him. Saito’s unusual gentleness…it made tears came to his eyes even as he arched up against Saito, willingly, completely giving himself to the older man. Aided by the soft scented darkness of the room, for a moment he could pretend that he was loved. 

The moment didn’t last long. 

Spooned snugly against Saito’s lean naked body, with his passion drying on his stomach, the doubts came back full force again. Aya rested his arms about the sinewy limbs cradling him close against Saito’s chest, troubled orchid eyes staring unseeingly into the dark. 

When the passion abated, and the illusion of love has faded, what was left in its wake? Aya didn’t know. And hearing Yohji’s words once more in his mind, he knew he could not live with this uncertainty. 

“Saito?” he spoke softly, eyes still staring into the darkness. “Are you awake?” 

Behind him, the older man grunted, his exhalation soft and warm against the back of his neck. “Hai.” 

Aya took a deep breath. It was now or never. “I…need to ask…Saito…what am I to you?” 

He could sense the slight but distinct ripple of surprise in the man behind him. He kept very still, heart in his mouth, as he waited almost fearfully for his reply. 

“I thought it’s obvious.” 

“Obvious? In what way?” Now that the subject was broached, Aya found it easier by the minute to continue. He turned around, orchid eyes meeting Saito’s impassive gaze. “I don’t know your feelings for me. I don’t even know much about you.” 

“We talked every night.” 

“But you told me nothing about yourself whereas I hid nothing from you. Am I your lover or just a bed partner?” 

“You’re mine.” 

A trace of anger was beginning to stir within Aya. “Is that all I am to you? Just a possession?” 

Saito didn’t answer. 

Angry and hurting, Aya pulled away and rolled out of bed. He began dressing in quick jerky movements, trying to suppress the tears he could feel coming. He felt cheap, used and worst of all, betrayed. There was a throbbing pain in his chest, twisting and aching so much that he could barely breathe. He stalked towards the door, stinging tears blurring his vision. 

“I love you, Saito Hajime, but I am not a thing to be owned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s post-script notes:  
> Lots of OOC on Aya’s part and maybe a little on Saito’s as well. We all know this had to come. No relationship ever runs smooth, especially not like theirs. Aya doesn’t strike me the type to do things halfway. If he loves, he gives it his all. And Saito, I doubt he’s the type to express his emotions much, especially love. He’s just too caustic and ruthless for that, a killer with no remorse or conscience. If he does express his feelings, it would most likely be in private and with his actions. Words, to a man like him, meant little unless he can prove it.  
> So where do they go from here? I don’t know yet. I need my sleep first!


	15. Act Five Scene One

The rest of the week was a hazy blur to Aya. He barely remembered anything he did; he went through his daily routine like a robot, distant and colder than ever. Impossibly, he spoke less and interacted even less. He was positively chilly and rude to their daily crowd of fan girls, which got him the result he desired – lots of personal space and to be left alone. Whatever spare time he has, he spent it brooding in his room or in the little park. 

Ken was nearly frantic and frustrated. He had grown to regard the aloof redhead as family and it was plain as daylight that something was bothering him. He tried to broach the subject and was brushed off by Aya so many times he knew better than to persist. It was a fact that Aya did not respond well to his brand of hovering anxious concern. 

That left Yohji, the only one other of them who has experienced too much of the world’s cruelty. But damn it, the playboy was not doing anything. 

During a lull, Ken watched Aya discreetly from the corner of his eyes as the redhead hung up his apron after his shift and walked up the backstairs to the sanctuary of his bedroom. Ken immediately pounced on Yohji the second he came through the front entrance. 

“Yohji! What the hell do you think you are doing?!” he demanded angrily. 

“Whoa,” the blond playboy held up his hands defensively. “I’m off today, remember Kenken?” 

“I’m not talking about that,” Ken said impatiently. “I’m talking about Aya!” 

“Ah, he’s still in a snit?” 

“It’s worse than that and you know it. It’s like – it’s like…if I hadn’t known better, I would say he’s got his heart broken.” 

Yohji arched a brow. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Ken said, misinterpreting his look. “This is our Aya we’re talking about, the icy aloof redhead of our little family. So what are you going to do about it?” 

“Me? What about you?” 

Ken rolled his eyes. “Hello, do you remember the last time I tried consoling him? I ended up with a bruised jaw.” 

Yohji chuckled, but his amusement did not quite reach his eyes. His emerald orbs were dark with worry and concern too. “I’m waiting for him to make the first move.” 

“Nani?” 

“Aya needs to stew a little before he even allows me to talk to him about what’s bothering him. When he’s well and ready, he will search me out. Not before then.”

* * *

He felt nothing, absolutely completely nothing. Empty to the world, empty in his heart. Distantly, he marveled at his complete detachment. No, not complete. There was an aching hole somewhere in his chest. Over the days, it had dulled from twisting agony into this persistent aching emptiness that refused to go away. 

Lying on the couch in his bedroom, Aya stared aimlessly at the white ceiling, one arm flung over his head. Unconsciously, his other hand reached up and pressed against his chest. 

It was as bad as when he had lost his family. Then he had nearly collapsed under the emotional trauma; only the responsibility of caring for his sister kept him away from suicide. It was the same thing all over again; he was hurting so bad that he felt like a walking open wound. Just trying to function as WeiB, living each day as it comes, with flowers and his blade like he always did, was an ordeal – tasteless and gray. 

How…cold. Aya thought dully. How cold and empty my life has been. How cold it is now without Saito.

He found that he didn’t much like the feeling at all.

That week with Saito was the best times he had in recent years. He had been warm and alive; he had been held and felt wanted, even cherished. He had felt like Ran before Takatori Reiji destroyed his life, and in demonstrating his love, he had given Saito everything of himself, including the key to his highly guarded heart. But it was all an illusion, mere wisps o’ willow.

He remembered his last words to Saito and winced at the truth in it. A murderer wasn’t supposed to love or to be loved. He knew that but he went ahead and did it anyway. Served him right to get his heart broken. By someone even more callous than he was. Hopeless orchid eyes squeezed tightly shut. He was an idiot, that was for sure. 

Lost in his own misery, Aya did not hear someone entering his bedroom until he felt a light tap against his arm.

“Dinner time,” Yohji said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Of course you aren’t hungry. You haven’t eaten breakfast or lunch either. So come down. It’s takeout tonight, safe enough.”

“I thought Ken was cooking.”

“Neither of us wants to clean up the kitchen.”

“I’m really not hungry.”

He heard a brief exhalation that could be a sigh. “It’ll be in the fridge when you are hungry.”

Sounds of footsteps walking away and all of a sudden, Aya didn’t want to be alone. “Yohji.”

The blond stopped. “Hai?”

“He felt nothing for me.”

Pause. 

“And you?” came the quiet response.

“I love him.”

Slowly, Yohji returned to his side, sitting down beside his couch. In the glimmer of moonlight, he could just make out the tear streak on an alabaster cheek. He reached out and clasped the pale hand resting on Aya’s chest. The pale fingers tightened convulsively over his own digits.

A quiet sob escaped into the night. Another sob escaped him and another until Aya was crying hard gut-wrenching tears. 

All Yohji could do was to hold onto his hand tight and just be there.


	16. Act Five Scene Two

Saito sat in the darkness of his safe house, playing with his lighter. He idly watched the flame as it flickered in the darkness. The moonlight spilling in through the window next to him illuminated an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts by his side, as well as an empty cigarette pack. He was well on his second pack now, an alarming quantity even for him. 

_I love you, Saito Hajime._

The matter-of-fact declaration still rang through his mind. Golden eyes gazed beyond the lighter flame to the empty futon.

_But I am not a thing to be owned._

He knew that. Human beings were neither things nor property. But a person can still be owned in ways that matter. 

Ties, honor, blood...emotions. 

Wasn’t it obvious to his kitten? He had been possessive, attentive, always making sure that Aya enjoyed being with him. He even chatted with the redhead. Hell, he had never cooked this much in his entire life than he did in one week. 

_I love you, Saito Hajime._

Surely his intentions were made clear from the onset. Saito didn’t believe in lip service. You didn’t need words where your actions talk louder. Right? He had shown his interest in the young man and accordingly, claimed him as was his nature, marked him as his own every night.

_But I am not a thing to be owned._

Aya hadn’t appreciated it. Saito frowned, wondering where he had gone wrong. 

The nights had not been the same without Aya to keep him company. The safe house felt colder somehow, less welcoming, his futon too empty. He still woke up in the middle of the night, reaching for the pale slender form that was no longer there. 

_I love you, Saito Hajime._

He missed the fascinating redhead – the fiery passion encased in pristine crystal ice. He ached for the redhead’s presence, which astounded him to no ends. He longed to see the beautiful pale figure sprawled so wantonly beneath him, so beguiling in his passion, so vulnerable and sweet without his mask. 

_I love you._

He wanted to hold Aya in his arms again, and never let him go. Feel his passion running through his veins, red fire mingling with golden calm. Keep him close and treasure him forever, for he was certainly unique and utterly precious. 

He wants him back, where he belonged, in his arms. He wants him back because…because…

_I love you._

“Kuso.”


	17. Act Five Scene Three

After that night he had so embarrassingly broken down in front of Yohji (something which he had never done before), Aya resolved to put the whole Saito mess behind him. 

He had done it before; he could do it again. 

After all he had sold his soul for this life on the night his old life and heart were shattered, put himself back together into this cold hard Aya that faced the world now. How difficult can it get to put a broken heart back together again? Just go about his daily life and try his best to stop thinking about him. 

Ignore the pain. It will go away in time. 

The bed will not feel so empty forever. 

And before he knows it, he _might_ just stop shedding tears every time he sees his katana.

Aya sighed frustrated and gave up on the arrangement of lilies he had tackling for the last three hours. He hasn’t been able to get anywhere with the floral arrangement. His mind was just not on the task at hand; he hasn’t been able to concentrate on _anything_ since that night he had stormed out of Saito’s safe house. 

He rested his head in the palms of his hands, elbows propped on the worktable. 

Pathetic, he chided himself. He could not stop thinking of Saito’s face, Saito’s gestures, Saito’s touches. Everything seems to remind him of the Mibu’s Wolf, even the occasional dog being walked past the front of the flower store. He was pathetic, utterly pathetic. 

The door chime tinkled softly.

Aya automatically lifted his head, mouth open to greet the customer. The words died before they could leave his throat.

Saito stood in the tiny confines of the flower shop, wearing a suit and a tie, and his usual impassive expression.

Somewhere distantly, Aya marveled at the thrill that jolted through him, the sudden leaping of his heart. His cheeks felt hot one instant and then chill the next. He remembered to start breathing and to put on his usual emotionless mask. He was insanely relieved that his co-workers were not present. 

“Can I help you, sir?” he asked as calmly as he could, rising from his workbench. 

The tiniest of frown chased across Saito’s brows. Aya saw that and was perversely pleased. The Mibu’s Wolf hadn’t expected his calm. 

“I like to see your roses.” 

Aya fought to keep his nervousness under wrap. “Our roses are over there in that corner, sir.” 

Still coolly relaxed and impassive (Aya wondered if he could sense his skittishness), Saito began browsing and selecting the blooms. The redhead could not bear to cross the distance and help him as he would with any other customers. Already he was having trouble maintaining his usual composure; if he was to close the gap between them, Aya could not be sure of his own actions. 

“I heard that this shop is well-versed in the Victorian language of flowers,” Saito said conversationally. 

“Yes, we are.” 

“Excellent. I have need to send a message to someone.” 

Aya swallowed hard. “Does the person know the language?” 

“He is well-versed in it.” Saito straightened and with a small bunch of various flowers in hand, he approached the counter. Solemnly, he gently handled the flowers over to Aya. “Correct me if I got the message wrong…onegai.” 

That one word nearly broke Aya’s resolve. Saito was not the type to say ‘please’ even under torture. He slowly took the flowers from the older man, orchid eyes dropping to examine the blooms. His hands began to tremble as he deciphered the message. 

The message in the flowers was clear: apology, asking for forgiveness and a second chance, and a declaration of love. 

“Why do you need to send this message?” he asked faintly. 

“Because I realize actions cannot take the place of words sometimes. It was…a mistake on my part, one which I did not spot until it has hurt him.” 

“Will he accept it?” 

Golden eyes were bleak with resignation. “That is his choice. I hope he will though.” 

“If this rosebud is returned to you, then yes he has.” A pale finger gently touched the fragile bloom. “But he will need time to consider.” 

“Hn. I have patience.” 

“Will you like me to wrap this up into a bouquet?” Aya asked softly. 

“I’ll leave the decision up to you. I’m sure you know what to do.” Saito pulled out his wallet and laid a fifty on the counter, more than enough to cover the cost of the bouquet. “Keep the change.” 

Turning, Saito walked calmly for the exit, pausing to pluck a blooming orchid stalk from a vase. “I’ll take this with me. It reminds me of his eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s post-script notes:  
> That went better than I thought. I had trouble with the making up scene, trying to find something that is both sweet and romantic and yet is still them. Double talk ensued. I hope you find it as romantic as I did.  
> Flower language is a tricky thing. Many flowers have similar meanings, though I did try to narrow it down to just some of the more popular species. About the rosebud response the receiver is to give the sender, well, I made that up myself.


	18. Act Six Scene One

The bouquet was carefully placed in a matching vase. The moment Ken came in for his shift, Aya immediately brought the arrangement up to his room and placed it on his dresser. Alone in the quiet stillness of his private sanctuary, Aya couldn’t help but looked the bouquet over and over again. Pale slender fingers drifted over the flowers ceaselessly, lightly, unable to keep away from the fragile petals. 

Apology, he silently murmured. Seeking forgiveness and a second chance. A declaration of love.

So simple a message, but conveying so much emotions from the lean wolf. 

The Victorian language of the flowers had no hard and fast rules. Many species have similar meanings; to convey the right meaning required someone skilled in the language, usually after years of study. The accuracy of the message, the care in which Saito chose the type of flowers to convey the right meanings…Lots of thoughts and painstaking attention was poured into this floral avatar. His heart was in this bouquet; the wolf had bared his throat in a gesture of vulnerability while seeking to bring Aya back to his side. 

He wants me back, he thought dazedly. He loves me.

The revelation threw Aya for a loop. He had never expected Saito to apologize and try to woo him back. He didn’t know what to do. Should he accept it or not? But what will happen after Saito did get him back? He loved Saito, no doubt about it. He wanted nothing more than to be with him. But Aya wasn’t certain that once Saito got him back, he would not relapse back into his highhanded habit of not saying anything. He didn’t know if he could bear that uncertainty again. 

Purple eyes narrowed as a thought struck him. 

What if…Saito has to earn him back?

Pale fingers stopped caressing the flowers as he turned the thought over in his mind. It was not a bad idea and it might just drive home the fact to Saito that he wasn’t that easily claimed. 

Very slowly, Aya smiled, a gleeful predatory smile not unlike Saito’s. 

The wolf has better watch out. 

Feeling so much better now he had a plan, Aya left his bedroom. Humming softly under his breath, he made his way to the second floor, pausing when he saw Ken in the living room instead of being in the flower shop. 

“Omi’s here,” Ken said in response to his questioning look.


	19. Act Six Scene Two

Night fell and it was time for the White Hunters to prowl the night once more. 

The target this time was at an abandoned warehouse near the dock; their mission to execute Takeda Kanryou for his crimes against the people of Japan. 

It was a straightforward mission. A deal was going down tonight. All WeiB had to do is wait until the moment of exchange and then spring their attack. Everyone involved in the exchange tonight was to die, including the bodyguards and the buyer, whoever he may be. 

While Abyssinian and Balinese kept watch at the front and back of the warehouse, Siberian planted bombs throughout the warehouse. It was best to have insurance since they were certainly going to be outnumbered and in all likelihood, the confrontation might turn into a bloody fight. 

A spot of coldness touched Aya’s cheek. Automatically, he looked up at the night sky. More snowflakes were falling, drifting down from the sky like so many pieces of fluffy cotton. Winter was finally here, adding a further chill to a night destined to erupt into violence. 

It would be nice to play in the snow again, he thought absently. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself involved in a snowball fight, laughing and thoroughly enjoying himself. Saito would finally tackle him to the snowy ground and their playfulness would swiftly turn into –

Aya shook his head violently, a blush that had nothing to do with the cold touching his cheeks. This was not the time to be having such thoughts. 

All thoughts of snow and play left his mind the moment he spied the black Jaguar cruising down the street. 

Abyssinian watched the black Jaguar closely. It was rare to find such an expensive car here in the industrial district, even rarer to have its presence here during the night. It could only be either Takeda or the buyer. In any case, both parties have to die. As he watched further, two more cars – this time a stretch limousine plus a black four-wheel-drive – approached the warehouse from the opposite end. 

“Balinese, Siberian.” he spoke softly over his headset. “Both parties have arrived. Move in.” 

“Hai.” 

“On my way.” 

Like shadows in the dark, WeiB rose from their hiding places, ready to spill the blood of the guilty. 

Aya sneaked into the warehouse through his prearranged entrance – an unlocked window in the darkest corner. Soundless despite his hard-shod boots, he crept across the railing high above the ground, eyes fixed on the meeting happening below. 

Facing each other, the headlights of the cars cast the meeting area into light. From where he was, Aya could see Takeda’s guards spreading out in a semi-circle, checking the area all around them. He counted a total of ten guards, all armed with a wide variety of automatic guns and rifles. Takeda himself stood in the center of his protective semi-circle. A henchman stood beside him, with a black carrier bag in hand. The oily drug dealer seems to be in a rather good mood tonight, smiling faintly and relaxed. 

The door of the black Jaguar opened and Aya felt his blood ran cold. 

With languid grace, Saito got out of his black Jaguar and approached Takeda. Tonight he wore a black Mao-style suit, contrasting sharply against his white gloves. His ever-present cigarette dangled from his lips while he carried a large metal briefcase in one hand and a polished black walking stick in the other. Aya could not see his face from his angle but he recognized the languid attitude and the startlingly lack of menace at once – Saito was never more dangerous than when he was being deceptively pleasant. 

Aya withdrew into the shadows, distressed and agitated. This threw a wrench in their plan. No one knew that Saito was here tonight, certainly not even Omi. Of all the people gathered in this warehouse, only Aya knew of Saito’s true identity. All Yohji and Ken knew that the Saito was the buyer and thus has to die. Now not only has he got to kill Takeda, he has got to make sure his friends don’t kill Saito or worse, Saito hurting them. 

An ominous click behind him froze Aya in his tracks. Orchid eyes flickered to his left and spied the steel-gray muzzle of a gun pointing straight at his head.


	20. Act Six Scene Three

“Good evening, Fujito-san. You’re very punctual,” Takeda greeted. 

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Saito replied with a pleasant smile. “Have you brought your goods?” 

“Hai, hai. And I hope you have brought the payment?” 

“Right here.” Saito patted the briefcase by his side. “Shall we?” 

Takeda gestured for his henchman to bring forward the black carrier bag. 

“Takeda-sama!” 

Everyone turned. 

Golden eyes narrowed imperceptibly as Aya was led towards them, his hands placed behind his head and one of Takeda’s guards prodding him forward. 

“Well, well, what’s this?” Takeda murmured. 

“Found him spying on us from above, Takeda-sama.” The guard reported. “He has a wire on him and he was carrying this.” 

Takeda caught the sheathed katana the guard tossed towards him. He gave it a cursory glance and then turned his attention back to the redhead. “Any identification?” 

“None, sir.” 

Takeda eyed the redhead speculatively, tapping the hilt of the katana thoughtfully against his chin. “You’re not a cop,” he mused aloud. “I can smell a cop a mile away.” He reached up and grasped Aya by his chin, turning his face this way and that. “So pretty. Under other circumstances, I would love to have you in my bed.” 

Orchid eyes glared at him, icy with simmering fury. 

Takeda chuckled. “That look in your eyes, I like it.” He turned away. “However I don’t have the time to break you. Kill him.” 

Aya immediately put up a struggle as Takeda’s henchmen forced him to his knees. Two guards grabbed his arms and pulled them painfully back until he was eye-to-eye with the gun pointing straight at him. He stopped struggling, purple eyes narrowed with hatred. 

“Matte,” Saito said suddenly. 

Both Aya and Takeda’s gazes swiveled to him. 

“A gun is too noisy, Takeda-san.” Saito pointed out calmly. “You’ll draw unnecessary attention.” 

“What do you propose, Fujito-san?” 

Casually and in no hurry, Saito took the katana from Takeda. Unsheathing the gleaming blade, he walked over to Aya and placed the tip of the blade under his chin. 

“A sword is so much quieter, wouldn’t you say, Takeda-san?”


	21. Act Seven Scene One

Aya stared up the silver length of his blade at the cold golden eyes, searching desperately for a hint of warmth and finding none. _He loves me, right?_ He asked himself wildly. _He wouldn’t do it…would he?_

Saito drew back the katana, the barest of a smirk curving his thin lips. 

Over the pounding of his heart, Aya heard the faint whiz of an…arrow? In rapid succession, the headlights of the cars shattered, casting the warehouse in darkness again. As Takeda’s guards shouted in alarm, Aya instantly yanked his arms free and hit the ground, just in time as gunfire erupted and he heard the dull sound of a blade cutting through flesh. Warm blood splattered over him. 

A bomb went off, lighting up the place with a spectacular fireball. In the fiery light, Aya saw Yohji and Ken attacking Takeda’s guards. Up above them, on the railing, Omi covered them with well-placed arrows. 

_Omi? Since when he got here?_

There was no sign of Takeda himself or Saito. But his bloodied katana rested on the ground in front of him and both his captors had been savagely slain. Aya wasted no time in joining the fray. He snatched up his katana and threw it, striking the guard that was about to stab Yohji from behind through his chest. 

The blond nodded his thanks. He threw out his cutting wires again, effortlessly beheading another guard. “Go and find Takeda!” he shouted over the din. “We can handle things here!” 

Aya said nothing, simply pulled out his katana and took off. His friends were more than capable in handling goons with guns. 

Through the falling snow, he saw the distinct figures getting further and further away. Aya set off after them, sprinting hard to catch up. He heard the staccato spat of automatic rifle and saw the lean lanky figure of Saito throwing himself down on the wet ground to avoid being hit. The redhead veered off, attempting to cut them off from a different direction. 

Saito sprang to his feet again and charged forward at a ferocious speed. In a fluid motion, he unsheathed a long slim blade from his walking cane and held it in the ready position. Before the guard could react, Saito cut him down swiftly and savagely. 

Takeda’s eyes widened in recognition of the fighting style. “Getatsu! Mibu’s Wolf, Saito Hajime!”

Saito simply smirked as he slain another guard with brutal speed.

“This way, Takeda-san!” One of his guards said urgently and pulled him towards an alleyway.

A flash of metal and his guard died with a gurgle of a scream, leaving him all alone. Takeda backed away from the alleyway fearfully, eyes darting between the lean menacing figure of the Mibu’s Wolf and the pale vengeful ghost that slinked out from the alleyway. 

“Takeda Kanryou,” Aya said coldly. “You have been found guilty on several counts of drug trafficking.” 

“M-matte. Surely we can talk this over. If it’s money you want, I have lots of it. How much? Twenty hundred thousand? Thirty hundred thousand? Name your price!” 

“Money won’t save you now, Takeda.” Saito replied in an equally cold voice as he advanced towards the terrified man. 

Takeda began to hyperventilate. “Who-who are you?” he squeaked. 

“WeiB,” Aya answered. He raised his katana in a ready stance. “White Hunters of the dark.” 

Abyssinian charged. 

Too late, he saw the gun in Takeda’s hand rising to aim point-blank at him. He tried desperately to slow down, throw himself to one side, anything to avoid getting shot. He felt a heavy mass slamming into him, knocking him to the ground, at the same time a gunshot shattered the night. 

Aya’s back hit the concrete painfully, the breath squashed out of him for a moment. The redhead shook off the pain and heaved himself up, orchid eyes widening with sudden shock. Somewhere, very faraway, beyond the sudden roaring of blood in his ears, someone began to scream in his mind. 

Saito lies at his feet, silent and still.


	22. Act Seven Scene Two

Takeda began to laugh, a high-pitched manic sound of glee. “I fell the Wolf! I fell the Mibu’s Wolf!” 

The insane laughing finally penetrated Aya’s devastated soul. Orchid eyes, brimming with tears, glared at Takeda. The purple orbs blazed with an icy searing hatred. Lips pulled back in a vicious snarl, Aya rose to his feet. 

“Shi-ne!” The anguished scream resounded through the night as he struck the killing blow. 

Takeda gaped almost comically, looking incredulously at the katana sticking deep into his chest. His dimming gaze darted back to Aya’s grief-stricken expression. 

“Burn in hell, Takeda.” Aya twisted his katana, disemboweling him further. He pulled it out, letting the dead body fall to the bloodstained ground. He stood above the dead drug lord, trembling with anguish barely held in check, as his loss finally sank in. Again he had lost what is most precious to him. Again he was alone, truly alone now forever. 

“I see you have killed him,” croaked a voice, familiar and somewhat breathless, behind him. 

It took a moment for Aya to register the voice. He spun around so fast as to nearly give himself whiplash and stared uncomprehendingly at Saito sitting up on the ground. He tried to speak but no sound came out. 

“Saito…?” He finally said very faintly. 

“Not bad, kitten. Your blow was swift and to the point.” 

In a flash, Aya had dropped his bloodied katana and was by his side. He ran his hands over Saito’s torso, frantically searching for any injuries. He unbuttoned the jacket and shirt, nearly tearing the cloth in his haste, and stared speechlessly at the Kevlar vest beneath the clothes. The flattened bullet right above his heart stood out against the dark fabric of the Kevlar. 

“Lucky thing I wore this,” Saito said wryly. “Or I’ll be dead for sure.” 

Relief, strong and cold, washed over Aya. Overwhelmed, he threw his arms around Saito’s neck, hugging him tightly. Taken aback, Saito hesitantly and gently wrapped his own arms around Aya, holding the trembling redhead close against him. 

Nothing was said in the silence of the night. The pair lies embracing under the falling snow; Saito letting his presence convinced Aya that he was alive and well. 

Abruptly, Aya pulled away and punched him resoundingly. 

“Bastard!” he hissed. “Get up and follow me!”


	23. Act Seven Scene Three

By the time they reached the warehouse, Aya had calmed down somewhat, retreated behind his usual impassive mask. Saito was quiet beside him, wisely keeping his mouth shut even though he badly wanted to know why the redhead had hit him. There was a glint in those purple eyes that hinted of anger still unabated. 

The warehouse was burning merrily to the ground when they arrived. Against the fiery glow, three silhouettes waited near where their getaway vehicles were concealed. 

“Abyssinian!” Ken called. Suddenly he dropped into a couch, the claws of his bugnuks snapping forth. Beside him, Yohji pulled out his wire as well. “Get away from him, Abyssinian! He’s one of them!” 

Instinctively, Aya took a step to his right, shielding Saito protectively. “Yamatte! He’s a friend!” 

“Nani?” 

“He’s working undercover to destroy Takeda’s operations,” Aya explained rapidly. 

“How would you know that?” Yohji questioned tensely. 

“I met him before,” Aya answered evasively. Somehow he didn’t think the fact he was sleeping with Saito would go over well with them. 

Yohji’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“I can vouch for him,” Omi spoke up unexpectedly. They all turned to the youngest Takatori who in turn was staring at Saito and Aya with an odd expression. “He’s the Mibu’s Wolf, a former agent of Kritiker.” 

“No way,” Ken said flatly. “They were all killed.” 

“All but one.” Omi turned to Aya. “Takeda?” 

“Dead.” 

“Good. Then it’s time for us to leave as well.” Omi held up a hand, forestalling further questions. “Everything can be settled by tomorrow.” 

Aya nodded, relaxing somewhat now he knows his friends wouldn’t attack Saito. “I’m taking the Wolf back to his safe house. There are some…issues we have to settle.” 

Again, the odd expression came over Omi’s face. Then it was gone. “All right. We’ll drop by tomorrow noon, if the Wolf doesn’t mind.” 

“Iie.” 

“Get into my car,” Aya practically ordered Saito as he turned away, missing the look of sudden comprehension flashing across Yohji’s face. 

* * *

The ride back to Saito’s safe house was made in absolute silence. Both Aya and Saito did not speak to each other during the journey, not until the Porsche was parked in the garage of the safe house. Aya sat behind the wheel for a moment longer, and then very deliberately, got out and made his way around the house to the backyard. 

Saito followed. He paused when Aya came to a stop in the middle of his backyard, drinking in the pale beauty of the man as he stood amidst the falling snow. 

The redhead turned around and looked at him, purple eyes hooded and impassive. From a pocket, he took out a rosebud stalk, the flower somewhat flattened but otherwise intact. Saito stared at the rosebud, recognizing it instantly as the one he gave to Aya just yesterday. 

“I kept this with me all the time, not knowing when I’ll see you again.” Aya said softly. “I return this to you.” 

Slowly Saito accepted the rosebud. 

Aya stepped away. Saito watched silently, a brow quirking upward, as the redhead very formally drew his katana. The bare blade glimmered coldly under the starlight. 

“A duel?” he guessed. 

“Hai.” Aya tossed back his crimson bangs, a motion at once sensual and wild. His stance was solemn; the lift of his chin was proud. “I accept your apology, Saito Hajime. But if you want to claim me forever, come and defeat me.” 

For a long silent moment, golden eyes locked with purple, measuring the strength of Aya’s determination. 

“Che,” Saito said at last. “As you wish, kitten.” 

As Aya watched, Saito disappeared into the house and came out, this time carrying his Nippon sword. “A proper duel requires a proper sword.” He unsheathed his sword and held it lightly in his grasp. “I won’t hold back.” 

“Neither will I.” Aya dropped into a ready stance. 

“Hn.” Saito lifted his sword parallel to the ground, left shoulder and arm pulled back and his right hand lightly touching the tip of his sword. “Koi.”


	24. Act Eight Scene One

Under the falling snow, two tall figures stood – one lean and lanky, the other slim and slender. Their naked swords glinted coldly, motionless steel held in motionless grips. The air was still, and the night silent. Each waited for the other to make the first move, patiently bidding their time. 

There was no signal. 

They sprang into action, attacking each other with speed too fast for the eye to see. The sounds of blades clashing echoed through the night as they fought across the backyard, a rapid fire of blows and parries. Saito launched a furious attack, his sword flashing like a living fang, sharp and deadly. Aya parried his blows, striking back with a flurry of equally merciless counter-attacks. 

Suddenly they disengaged, splitting apart to gauge the results of the first volley. 

Aya panted slightly but refused to give in. From the very first blow, he knew Saito outclassed him in terms of skill and experience. It had taken every bit of his skill to hold his ground in the first volley – but it was not without its own cost. Without removing his gaze from Saito, he gingerly touched the side of his neck. His glove came away with blood. 

Saito did not smile or smirk, which was usual for him, but his golden eyes were aglow with a keen, almost pleased light. Aya was good; Shion – the master of the formless style – had taught him well. It was a joy to fight someone worthy of his attention again. From the determined light in those purple orbs, he knew Aya intended to give it his all, for which he welcomed it. 

Saito raised his blade again and attacked. 

Aya answered in kind. 

Back and fro they fought across the backyard, giving no quarters and seizing every advantage. How long the duel last, they did not know. All their concentration was focused on winning. Under their feet, the snow was trampled down into mush, slick and slippery, and still they fought on. A particularly vicious slash cut Saito across the chest. The older man reared back, narrowly avoiding a serious injury but blood still seeped forth. 

Crouching low, he lunged forward aggressively. Aya hurriedly parried his blows. One booted foot slipped on the icy ground, causing him to stumble. In a blink of an eye, Saito disarmed him with a swift blow and pressed him up against a tree trunk, the sharp edge of his sword against Aya’s throat. 

Panting hard, Aya stared up at the older man, unmoving for fear of cutting himself on Saito’s blade. His expression was neither dismayed nor sullen, just waiting expectantly for Saito’s move. 

“Do you yield?” Saito asked calmly. 

“I yield. To you.” 

Golden eyes gleamed exultantly, running possessively over the pale man at his mercy, taking in the cheeks flushed from his exertions, the purple eyes glittering with adrenaline and passion stirred by their duel, and finally resting on the parted lips as his breaths escaped him in small white puffs. 

Saito slowly withdrew his sword and gently, carefully grasped the back of Aya’s head, gloved fingers threading through the crimson silk. With a growl, he roughly pulled the younger man towards him, claiming him with a hungry kiss, biting and licking the pliant lips. His tongue forced Aya’s soft lips to part and greedily devoured the deep sweetness of his mouth. His sword fell to the ground, forgotten, as he tightened his embrace, fusing Aya against his body. 

Aya kissed back hungrily, tongue dueling with Saito’s as he ran his hands up and down the older man’s flanks, feeling the iron strength in that lean body. Moaning breathlessly, he tore at the buttons of Saito’s jacket, desperately trying to get to the skin below. 

“Come,” Saito growled against his lips. 

Moving together, they stumbled through the backyard to the house, kissing and caressing with feverish passion. Aya’s trench coat landed on the kitchen floor in a heap, Saito’s jacket following a couple of steps later. A long trail of clothes marked their path to the bedroom. 

Aya laid back on the futon, gazing up at Saito looming over him. A pale hand smoothed back the black hair, trailed down to the lean chest, fingers lingering over the wound he had inflicted. It was a light scratch and the blood had already dried. “You wear my mark,” he whispered. 

“As do you.” Golden eyes smoldered as Saito lowered and began to feast on the pale column of his neck, kissing the scratch wound, nipping and licking. 

Aya shuddered, head tilting to a side to allow him greater access. He missed this, the closeness with Saito, the warmth and care being bestowed on him. He arched up against the older man, not satisfied with the gentle touches. 

“Take me,” he pleaded breathlessly. “Make me yours.” 

“In due time.” Saito kissed him hard again. 

There was no gentleness, no tender touches and loving caresses. Both of them had been denied of their pleasures for too long for slow sweet loving. Their passions burned high and fierce; their lovemaking rough and carnal. The loving will come later, now it was time for possession. 

Aya threw back his head; crying out as Saito ate him, tongue rimming his puckered entrance, drilling into his tight warmth mercilessly. He moaned, both hands holding his legs against his chest, splaying himself wide open and vulnerable to Saito’s assaults. 

Then the wolf reared up again, golden eyes wild. He quickly lubed his hard leaking length, and pulled Aya to him, shifting until the redhead was straddling him. Palms flat against Saito’s chest, supporting his shuddering frame, Aya stared down at him, somewhat bewildered despite his passion. 

“Like this. I want to take you like this.” Callused hands spread the twin globes of Aya’s butt, lifted him upwards and positioned him at the tip of his length. 

Aya gasped when he felt the head of Saito’s length gently rubbing against his puckered entrance. 

Saito took his hands away, letting them fall to his sides. “Fuck me.” 

Purple eyes widened with shock. “Saito…?” 

“Hajime. Now fuck me,” he repeated. 

“Hai.” Breathlessly, lovingly, Aya stroked the side of his face. “My name is Ran.” 

He lowered himself onto Saito’s length, slowly and carefully despite Saito’s preparations. He closed his eyes when he took in Saito’s hard length right to the hilt, moaning as he felt the hard length rubbing him in different sensitive places. He lifted himself up and poised for a trembling moment, then he impaled himself swiftly. 

Saito yelled, a feral sound of passion. His fingers tightened about Aya’s hips, narrowed eyes staring up at the feverish wanton redhead so wild and beautiful in his passion, one hand curled around his own erection. 

“So deep…” Aya quivered for a moment. 

Then he began to ride the older man, slowly at first and then gaining in speed. Two hands joined his pumping his own erection, nearly causing him to falter in his rhythm but he recovered quickly. A slight shift and Aya shouted as his pleasure spot was rubbed. His controls breaking, Aya rode faster, almost brutally so, as he raced for the climax. 

Then he was there, bursting forth with a cry that echoed through the night, as he spilled his passion over their joined hands and Saito’s stomach. His channel contracted convulsively, squeezing Saito hard. The Wolf’s hips thrust upward hard, once and he came violently, filling the tight warmth with his seed. 

Aya collapsed against Saito’s chest, exhausted and breathing hard. Beneath him, Saito’s heart raced and he could hear his lungs heaving as the older man panted. They laid limp for a long while, recovering from the exhilarating session. It felt so good to be with each other again, to claim and be claimed. 

“Ran.” 

“Hai?” Aya wearily lifted his head. 

Hard hands cupped his face, stroking his cheeks and the fingers brushing his bangs away. Aya purred contentedly as he rubbed his cheek against a rough palm, eyes half-closing as he savored the loving gentle caress. Saito’s eyes were decidedly soft; the lines of his face less harsh. He gently tugged Aya’s face closer, one arm slipping down to curl around his narrow waist. 

“You’re mine,” Saito stated. “You belong to me and no one else. I won’t give you up. Not even beyond death. Not even if you try to leave me. If you do, I will come after you, hunt you down and bring you back with me. I will not let anything take you away from me. Because you’re mine.” 

Aya stared at him for a long moment, as he finally understood what Saito was saying. He smiled, a true smile, brilliant and joyous. “I heard you. I believe you.” 

With a little laugh, he hugged Saito, burying his face against his neck. “I love you too, Hajime.”


	25. Act Eight Scene Two

It was very late at night or very early in the morning before they were finally sated. They laid entwined in the futon, cuddling under the warm quilt as the snow fell outside. 

“Ran?” 

“Hmm?” came the sleepy response against his shoulder. 

“Why did you hit me?” 

“Because you were being a bastard,” Aya mumbled. 

“I was not.” 

“You made me think you wanted to kill me. Later, you scared the hell out of me when you took that shot in the chest. If you weren’t being a bastard, then what do you call that?” 

“I was wearing a Kevlar.” 

“ _I_ didn’t know that.” 

“Go to sleep.” 

“I can’t. I’m awake now and it’s your fault.” Aya traced an idle pattern on Saito’s chest. “Hajime, will you rejoin Kritiker?” 

“I’m still undecided.” 

Aya lifted his head from his very comfortable pillow and gazed at his lover. “What’s holding you back?” 

“Persia’s intentions are honorable but sometimes the people under him are not. I do not want to be betrayed again.” 

“Your code of justice is exactly what Kritiker needs though.” Aya propped himself up on one arm. “What if you rejoin Kritiker as a clandestine agent? A Wolf no one knows about, save for Persia? Something like an internal spy.” 

“A shadow within a shadow?” 

“No one knows who you are or that you even exist,” Aya elaborated, warming up to his subject. “This way, you can keep an eye on Kritiker without fear of betrayal. If you like, I can join you too and maybe the rest of WeiB as well to form the pack.” 

“I knew there’s got to be a catch to this. Are you getting tired of the assassin game?” 

“Hai. I guess I lost my fangs. Killing was never enjoyable but after the Second Power Play, it grew even more tasteless.” Aya’s gaze was downcast, lost in his own dark memories. “I suppose killing one’s sensei would do that to a person.” 

“Ran.” Saito tipped his chin up, meeting his darkened gaze. “I know very little about the Second Power Play but I know Shion. He has always been slightly unbalanced, for all his claims of ‘no emotions’. If you had to kill him, it would be for a good reason.” 

“But -” 

“You haven’t lost your fangs, Abyssinian. I would know.” Saito brushed a soft kiss against Aya’s brows and coaxed him to lie down again, nestling in the crook of his arm. “Go to sleep, kitten. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” 

“It is morning, Hajime.”

“ _Sleep_ , Ran.”


	26. Act Eight Scene Three

Aya slept in rather late that morning. The sun was already high when he woke, a smile curving his full lips as he stretched lazily, keenly aware of the gaze on him even though he had his eyes closed. The next thing he knew, his mouth was taken in a deep kiss that sent a thrill right to his toes. 

Purple eyes drifted open. “Ohayo, Hajime.” 

“You’re at least an hour late. It’s almost one.” 

“Nani?” Aya bolted straight up, alarmed gaze darting from the clock to Saito’s amused smirk. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” 

“And miss out on watching my kitten sleep?” 

“Omi and the others are coming over today, baka!” 

“They’re already here.” 

Aya stared at him. 

“Have been warming my sofa for the past five minutes. I just came up to let you know.” 

“You -” Aya scowled at him. “What did you tell them?” 

“Oh, that you were worn out and needed your rest.” Golden eyes glittered with wicked mischief. “They did see your clothes all over the house though.” 

Aya turned a bright shade of red, mortified, even as he glared at the wolf. He scrambled from the futon and then paused, wondering what he was going to wear since his clothes were outside the bedroom. 

Chuckling, Saito grasped the nape of his neck and kissed him before pushing a stack of folded clothes into his hands. “Get dressed, kitten. We’ll be waiting downstairs.” 

Ten minutes later, Aya was dressed and presentable. Hoping his embarrassment wouldn’t show beyond his mask, he cautiously headed for the living room, praying his friends would wisely leave his dignity alone. 

No such luck. 

Both Ken and Omi were grinning from ear to ear, nudging each other and giving him lots of knowing looks. 

“So, how was your sleep?” Omi asked, a little too brightly. 

Aya glared at him, to no effect. 

Ken snickered. 

Giving up, Aya looked away. He paused when he saw Yohji. The blond was seated quietly in the armchair, amused but somehow questioning at the same time. Aya wondered what was going through his mind. 

Saito entered from the kitchen, bearing a tray loaded with drinks and food. He placed it on the coffee table and took the other armchair. Aya poured himself a cup of tea and instinctively perched himself on the armrest beside Saito. 

“Where do we start?” the Wolf asked. 

“Aya-kun’s account of last night,” Omi said, all business again. “Abyssinian?” 

Very quickly, Aya gave an account of his actions, leaving nothing out. Yohji gave Saito a quick speculative glance when he heard how he had taken the bullet for Aya, which the redhead did not notice. He finished off with the death of Takeda and returning to their vehicles. 

Aya looked questioningly at Omi. “What were you doing there last night?” 

“Call it a hunch but I had this feeling that my presence was needed, so I went after you guys.” Omi smiled. “Good thing I did. When I saw them about to kill you, I signaled to Saito-san.” 

“He told me to stall for time,” Saito continued. “So I did.” 

“And very well at that. I almost thought you were going to kill Aya-kun.” 

“So what happened to Takeda’s operations?” Ken wanted to know. 

“I sent in the Crashers at the same time you were to assassinate him. The police arrested all his henchmen, plus all his records were confiscated. His list of buyers would implicate a significant number of very prominent people.” 

“I see a lot of moping up in the near future,” Yohji remarked. 

Omi turned his serious blue gaze to Saito. “Now that your hunt is over, Saito-san, have you given some thoughts to my request?” 

“Request?” Ken asked quizzically. 

“Persia wants Hajime to rejoin Kritiker again as the Mibu’s Wolf,” Aya explained calmly. “I got a suggestion.” 

“Which is?” Omi wanted to know. 

“In the past, the pack was in the open which left them vulnerable to attacks. This time, to eliminate the possibility of a second betrayal, the Mibu’s Wolf is to remain completely clandestine, hidden and secret.” 

“No one is to know about my presence, except for those in this room.” Saito stated. 

“And I would like us to join him,” Aya added. 

Ken and Yohji gaped at the redhead, wondering if they had heard wrongly. 

“You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you Aya?” Ken asked. “Give up WeiB? To be Omi’s watchers?” 

Yohji was more direct. “The only way we can leave WeiB is by death. You know that.” 

“Would you rather remain as assassins for the rest of your lives?” Aya’s gaze was defiant. “Never knowing what the next day will bring, never knowing when you’ll die. I’ve grown tired of the game. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.” 

His friends had nothing to say to that. They each have felt each mission grew more tasteless; in a way they were losing the meaning of their burdens. 

“Gomen nasai,” Omi said softly, downcast. “I never knew activating WeiB would bring you all so much grief.” 

Aya’s expression softened. “It’s not your fault. You did what you had to. We understand and we want to help. If we hadn’t, we would have refuse to take the mission on the spot that day.” 

“The world does not revolve around us, Omi.” Yohji said. He sighed and lit up another cigarette. “Aya’s right. I could use a different kind of job.” 

“Same here too,” Ken admitted. 

“And since I’m Persia, I can change the rules. Death will not be the only way to leave WeiB.” 

Aya smiled with relief. “That’s good to know. I’d have fought you if you prove to be stubborn.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Omi turned to Mibu’s Wolf. “Well, Saito-san? Is the arrangement to your satisfaction?” 

Saito smirked. “Hai. I can’t wait to see how a couple of cats put up with a lone wolf like me.” 

Yohji glared at him while Ken spluttered indignantly. 

Omi coughed, hiding a smile behind his hand. “So that’s done. I will make the necessary arrangements.” 

“What about WeiB?” Aya asked. 

“Don’t worry about that. I will have WeiB IV up and running soon. So,” Omi looked around brightly. “Who’s hungry?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s post-script:  
> OOC galore, that’s all I can think of right now after spitting out Act Six to Act Eight at one shot. If you all notice, both of them crossed another bridge in these Acts and Saito began to talk more too, which resulted in lots of guesswork and some really OOC scenes. In Aya’s case, sweet vulnerability might be what’s beneath if someone peels away the ice. For Saito, well, what’s beneath the Wolf is anyone’s guess. I’m just hoping this is a close approximation.


	27. Ending

It was three days after their decision to leave WeiB. 

They closed down KaY and prepared to leave town once more. As Kritiker’s clandestine watchers, they cannot afford to remain visible to the public. With their pool of savings and a very generous fund set aside by Omi, they decided to ‘retire’. 

Aya wasn’t so worried about their resources, financial or technical-wise. He was more concerned about making sure everyone get along with one another. Already, Yohji was not seeing eye-to-eye with Saito, the wolf somehow rubbing the wrong way with the lanky blond. For some strange reason, Ken had no trouble adjusting to Saito’s presence, for which Aya was very thankful. 

The redhead stood in the middle of his bedroom, amidst the stack of cartons, troubled and worried. Hajime was his lover and Yohji was his best friend. He really wanted them to get along but it didn’t seem possible. Yohji seemed to hold Saito in distrust and Saito – well he appeared to not care less. But Aya knew better. Saito was dedicated to his job; he would not want the pack to fall apart even before it began. 

He turned to leave his room, his packing done at last. It was a good thing his possessions remained few. Ken was still trying to figure out what he could bear to leave behind. 

Aya went downstairs, searching for either Yohji or Saito. He had learnt very quickly from the onset that it was a bad idea to leave them alone together. He slowed when he heard their voices in the kitchen, pressing close next to the door to listen. 

“You don’t like me,” Saito was saying. 

“And if I don’t?” 

“It matters little to me, Kudoh. But it matters to Ran.” 

“And that concerns you.” 

“Of course.” 

Pause. 

“You worry about my relationship with Ran,” Saito stated bluntly. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you. You are the Mibu’s Wolf. You allow nothing to get in your way. You kill without remorse, without hesitation. You break the rules as long as it helps you in your goal, you use people as you see fit, all in the name of pursuing justice. Aku soku zan, that is all you will live for. You are a hunter without conscience, a lone wolf who is better off alone than with people. What Aya saw in you is beyond me.” 

“Ran is as much of a hunter as I am. He understands the risk of loving me.” 

“Aya may be a hunter but he still got a kind heart. I doubt you have a heart. Tell me, Saito, what will you do if Aya just happens to stand between you and justice, and you’re forced to choose?” 

Silence. 

Then very slowly, Saito said, “I will make sure that never happens. But if it does, I will find a third alternative.” 

“You will die for him?” 

“If it ever comes to that.” Aya’s heart tightened painfully when he heard Saito’s candid admission. “But I would prefer not to. Ran does not take well to being left all alone. And I won’t let him be alone again.” 

Silence again, longer this time. 

“You really do love him,” Yohji said quietly. 

No reply. Aya wondered what sort of expression Saito gave Yohji. 

Yohji sighed. “For Aya’s sake, I will make you this promise. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that neither you nor he would have to make such a choice.” 

“I accept your promise.” 

Aya hurriedly drew back, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. Soundlessly, he dashed back upstairs before anyone could emerge from the kitchen, darting back into his bedroom. He moved to the window, staring out at the snowy landscape as he turned the conversation over in his mind. He was deeply touched by Yohji’s friendship and Saito’s willingness to be honest with his best friend. In his own heart, Aya promised silently never to put Saito between a rock and a hard place. 

The solid presence behind him broke his reverie. 

Saito curled his arms around Aya’s waist, pulling him close to his chest. “How much did you hear?” 

“You knew I was there?” 

“Only at the end, when I heard you leaving.” Saito kissed him gently behind his ear. “You surprised me, Ran, with your stealth.” 

Aya had to smile at the admiration in his voice. “I heard most of it.” 

“Ah.” 

The redhead turned his head, one hand tugging Saito’s head down for a lingering kiss. 

“I mean what I said,” Saito said when they parted. 

“I know.” 

Aya nestled in the Wolf’s arms, safe and secure, as they gazed out of the window together, watching the snow fall.


	28. Epilogue

Many decades passed since the disbandment of WeiB III. 

Under the guidance of the last Takatori, Kritiker reclaimed its former strength and grew even stronger, a force to be reckon with. There were dark times, difficult times as various enemies sought to bring the organization down but Mamoru-sama was ever vigilant to such attempts and he dealt with those accordingly. There were good times too, moments of triumph and victory for Kritiker, ushering in days when the innocents sleep easy once more. 

As Kritiker kept its vigil, there came whispers and rumors of a pack that ran within the shadow organization. No one knew if there was truth to the stories. Those who did see them were agents suspected of corruption and they died with the secret taken to their graves. 

The stories became myth and they were given a name that will persist through the decades. 

They were called the Mibu’s Ghosts, watchers and defenders of Kritiker.


	29. Reviews

From Mediaminer:

17. Reviewed By: evean  On: April 25, 2005 02:54 CDT  
Rating(s):  
Style of Writing: 9 of 10  
Originality/Creativity: 10 of 10  
Enjoyment Factor: 10 of 10  
Overall Rating: 10 of 10  
Comment/Review:  
I love your story. I love you. Write more, please? Pretty please? 

16. Reviewed By: Cole'sLover  On: October 23, 2004 11:49 CDT  
Comment/Review:  
Wow, I don't usually read crossovers but this caught my eye and I was thrilled by how good it was. Saito and Aya make a great couple. It would take someone with a personality like Saito to tame the little kitten. You did a fantastic job of working the crossover characaters into the world of the WK boys. If you just happen to write a sequel to this I promise to read it. (hint! hint!) Thanks for the great read. ^ _ ^ 

15. Reviewed By: Innocent_Assassin [MediaMiner Member]  On: October 14, 2004 08:26 CDT  
Rating(s):  
Overall Rating: 10 of 10  
Comment/Review:  
hehe...This fic is great! I'd hate to be rude...but Hitoki is the term they use on the time of the Samurai. "Kiri" means cut and Hito means person, so it's Cutting a person. Nower days they say "Hitokoroshi" It means murderer...they have no actual word for assassin just murderer. I've noticed a few Japanese errors but other than that I really like this fic! It's so good! 

14. Reviewed By: buenagirl13  On: July 03, 2004 12:50 CDT  
Comment/Review:  
This was one of the few crossovers that I have really enjoyed reading. I would have never thought about pairing these two. Very well done... Just like Toki Mirage, I hope that there is a sequel to this... :0) 

13. Reviewed By: SilverKitsune!!!  On: February 22, 2004 01:24 CST  
Rating(s):  
Style of Writing: 10 of 10  
Spelling & Grammar: 8 of 10  
Originality/Creativity: 10 of 10  
Enjoyment Factor: 10 of 10  
Overall Rating: 10 of 10  
Comment/Review:  
*coughs* i'm origionally 'Toki Mirage' on mm.org, but mm.org is being a b*tch and it won't let me sign in or out PROPERLY. it's rather irritating. n e way, GREAT STORY!!! i loved it!!!!!! is there a sequel?? PLEASE TELL ME THERE'S A SEQUEL!!! email: solarstar5@hotmail.com if your not to busy, let me know!!! ^_- arigatou! 

12. Reviewed By: Nayna [MediaMiner Member]  On: January 25, 2003 04:27 CST  
Rating(s):  
Style of Writing: 10 of 10  
Spelling & Grammar: 10 of 10  
Originality/Creativity: 10 of 10  
Enjoyment Factor: 10 of 10  
Overall Rating: 10 of 10  
Comment/Review:  
i like your fanfic really. it is the first crossover i really liked. i couldn't stop reading and keep on that good work.... ^^

11. Reviewed By: Furie  On: December 02, 2002 00:30 CST  
Rating(s):  
Style of Writing: 10 of 10  
Spelling & Grammar: 10 of 10  
Originality/Creativity: 10 of 10  
Enjoyment Factor: 9 of 10  
Overall Rating: 10 of 10  
Comment/Review:  
I enjoyed it a lot...not many WK RK crossovers  
it kept mostly in character which was awesome  
just one thing though : Aku. Soku. Zan means Sin. Swift. Slay not Kill. Evil. Instantly. as most ppl think  
PS.. VERY good Lemon

10. Reviewed By: e?  On: October 30, 2002 09:06 CST  
Rating(s):  
Enjoyment Factor: 10 of 10  
Overall Rating: 10 of 10  
Comment/Review:  
I won't bother with so much detail of the spelling/grammar, etc. The Fic is G.O.O.D! ^_^  
Clever Idea of Saito and Ran pairing. I love the pairing and boy.. you write the helluva of a lemon. I was drooling when I read 'em ^ ^ ...

9. Reviewed By: OpusAnna [MediaMiner Member]  On: October 28, 2002 13:14 CST  
Rating(s):  
Style of Writing: 10 of 10  
Originality/Creativity: 10 of 10  
Enjoyment Factor: 10 of 10  
Overall Rating: 10 of 10  
Comment/Review:  
Great crossover!! I really liked the way you melded the two series together, not to mention the SaitoxAya smut. ^-^ Loved it.

8. Reviewed By: ladyjayne  On: September 30, 2002 02:30 CDT  
Rating(s):  
Overall Rating: 10 of 10  
Comment/Review:  
thanks for the great story...i enjoyed the relationship between aya and saito...it was very well done.

7. Reviewed By: ladyjayne  On: September 30, 2002 01:18 CDT  
Comment/Review:  
well, i just finished chapter three and i'm afraid i have to disagree with you...you most certainly CAN write a lemon...VERY nice.

 

From Fanfiction.Net:

6\. hime chapter 10 . Oct 4, 2008   
I loved your story and I completly disagree your yaoi scenes were HOT!

5\. tigerslady08 chapter 3 . Jan 20, 2008   
Love the crossover.

4\. Miststalker chapter 10 . Oct 9, 2004   
hm...I really enjoyed this fic and the crossover works really well. I've read some were the crossover was so unbelieveable I couldn't continue reading but this one works. I just wish there was more of it or more like it.

3\. Mist chapter 10 . Sep 25, 2004   
I like I like I like! I just wish there was more of it :( now I have to go hunt up your other stories. Hmm... one thing don't rely on spellcheck so much cause while the spelling may be correct the word may not.

2\. RuByMoOn17 chapter 10 . Sep 23, 2004   
col! I think tis was a great fic!

1\. BengalCat chapter 2 . Jan 4, 2004   
yaho! found one at last! I have been searching or an Aya/ Saito-fic ever since the idea struck me. and now I found one!   
veery good! I'm desperate for more! *gg*  
hey, what about bringing in a little Ken/Sano too? (just a question... '')  
it's ok. with me if Saito is the dominant one! (as if it would change things if it wasn't... x.o)  
I always picture them like this, too. just make sure he makes the kitten pourr! *lickingmylips*


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